


The Whole Truth And Nothing But

by dont_hate_me01



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Bottom!Sam, Drama, Drug Addiction, Hurt!Sam, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self Harm, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 23:19:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dont_hate_me01/pseuds/dont_hate_me01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being hit with a truth spell Sam's forced to reveal some shattering things about himself, including that he was raped and that he loves Dean like no brother should love his sibling, he runs away. Dean manages to find him almost a year later and now his younger brother is addicted to heroin and is into self-harm. Sam can't believe that Dean feels the same about him and feels like Dean only pities him. Dean has to use a spell on Sam before Sam realizes Dean feels the same and with time and love Dean convinces Sam that they share a special bond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

 

 

 **Title:** The Whole Truth And Nothing But  
 **Author:** [](http://dont-hate-me01.livejournal.com/profile)[**dont_hate_me01**](http://dont-hate-me01.livejournal.com/)  
 **Artist:** No art submitted  
 **Beta:** [](http://tattooeddevil.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://tattooeddevil.livejournal.com/)**tattooeddevil**  
 **Genre:** Wincest  
 **Pairing:** Dean/Sam  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word count:** 26 550  
 **Warning:** Mention made of rape. Drug abuse and self-harm with a knife. Top!Dean  
 **Summary:** After being hit with a truth spell Sam's forced to reveal some shattering things about himself, including that he was raped and that he loves Dean like no brother should love his sibling, he runs away. Dean manages to find him almost a year later and now his younger brother is addicted to heroin and is into self-harm. Sam can't believe that Dean feels the same about him and feels like Dean only pities him. Dean has to use a spell on Sam before Sam realizes Dean feels the same and with time and love Dean convinces Sam that they share a special bond.

**Chapter 1**

"Steady, Sam." Dean guided Sam into the motel room, letting his younger brother sit down on the bed before he left quickly to grab their stuff from the Impala. When he came back, Sam was seated in the exact position Dean had left him, and Dean didn’t like that.

"Are you all right, Sammy?"

"No, I'm feeling like shit." Sam eyes grew huge. "I didn't want to tell you that."

Dean frowned. "Why didn't you want to tell me that you're feeling crap, Sam?"

"Because it would sound like I'm whining." Sam shook his head. Once again words that he didn't want to hear from his own mouth pushed passed his lips.

Dean grinned. He had a theory and he couldn't wait to test it. "Dude, why do you always drink those frothy drinks?"

Sam tried to stay quiet, but it was as if an unseen force pushed at him, making him open his mouth so that the words spilled out. "Because I know how much it pisses you off." Sam groaned, he really didn't want to say that. "I think that witch did more than just mumble a few dying words, Dean." He stood up and swayed violently.

"Woah, easy there," Dean grabbed hold of Sam's arm when he saw Sam tilting over. He helped Sam sit back on the bed. "I have a feeling you're right. It seems like she cursed you with a truth spell."

Sam grunted. His body ached where the witch managed to shove him into the wall. He didn't have the strength to deal with this as well. "What I can't understand, is why me? I mean, you're the one who broke her alter and stopped her from completing the ritual."

Dean shrugged. He also had no idea why the witch would take it out on Sam, but there was also nothing he could do about it. "Because I'm sexier." He grinned and Sam rolled his eyes.

"You're vain." Sam covered his eyes. Once again he tried to remain quiet, but the words spilled from his mouth uncontrollably. "Crap."

Dean smirked. He didn't mind that Sam thought of him as vain, he still got all the girls. "Speaking of being vain, tell me more about your sex life." He grinned as Sam first turned a light pink which quickly turned into a bright red. "Don't be shy, Sammy. You're a Winchester, we may be many things, but shy is not one of them."

Sam shook his head. "Please, Dean, don't do this." He moaned as his ribs protested with the way he moved.

Dean felt like an ass. "Shit, Sammy. I'm sorry. Let's patch you up." He moved to Sam and started to assess Sam's injuries. He hissed as he pulled Sam's shirt from his body and noted the deep bruises that covered the biggest part of Sam's back. He could see how the bruise curled around Sam's side to the front. "Fuck." He gently traced the angry marks with his fingers. "I need to check this out." Dean knew from experience that even the slightest touch would feel like being prodded with a stick. Hard.

Sam nodded once, his body tense in anticipation of the pain he was going to experience.

Dean tried to be as careful as he could be, but his poking still made Sam grunt, hiss and moan out in pain. He was relieved to find no internal bleeding, or broken bones, but Sam was severely and deeply bruised. He left Sam on the bed and took some of the heavy duty painkillers out of their first aid kit. He was ready to put up a fight as he knew Sam would bulk against taking them, but when Sam only grunted in thanks and took the pills without complaining, Dean realized how seriously Sam was hurt. "Let's get you more comfortable." He helped Sam settle on the bed and took his place on the second bed, waiting for Sam to drift to sleep, high on drugs. It didn't take long before Sam's eyes drifted closed and they didn't open up again. Only then did Dean let the tension role from his shoulders. He cleaned up the items he used in the kit, hooked up Sam's laptop and made himself comfortable. Although he teased Sam about the truth spell, he also knew they had to find a way to reverse it. He'd have to call Bobby as well; the old hunter would know what to do. He reached for his phone and then groaned as he remembered that Bobby went on a hunt with Rufus out in the fields and woods of Montana and that there was no way to get in touch with him until later the week. He sighed, it seemed like research was the only way to go. Dean went through many sites and only when he found himself nodding off for the fourth time in so many minutes did he call it a night. Sam was sprawled out in bed, he looked peaceful and after checking that the younger man had no fever--because an injured Sam normally led to a feverous Sam--Dean went to bed as well. His head hadn't even touched the pillow before sleep overtook him; leaving both brothers dead to the world.

****

o0o--Wincest_BB2013--o0o

  
Sam awoke first the next morning. His body ached, but he felt a lot better than the night before. There was a ringing in his ears that he didn't notice the previous evening, but he couldn't let that bother him. He had no idea if he still had the curse on him. It made him shudder as he realized what questions his brother could have asked but didn’t. He looked over to the small table and saw his laptop still open. Slowly he managed to get out of bed and he made his way over to the table carefully. He had to do some research and he had to think of a way to test to see if the curse was still active without getting Dean involved. He knew Dean, his brother would ask stupid questions just because he was joking around, but Sam knew he wouldn't like the answers he'd receive. He started searching the internet when Dean's phone started to ring; making Sam jump and Dean woke with a startle. Even before Sam could reach for the phone Dean had it pressed against his ear.

"Bobby?" Dean's voice was still filled with sleep. Sam watched as his brother dragged his hand across his face and let his hand slide over the two day old stubble that decorated his cheeks. His gaze was fixed on Dean's slender fingers, as they gently scratched the short hairs before dropping his hand and scratching his chest. Sam could feel his cock twitching at that little motion. For years he'd been dreaming of feeling Dean's fingers stroking his chest as they lay side by side in bed. He felt his nipples harden, but before the thoughts could manifest into something more, he turned and quickly headed for the bathroom. He didn't see Dean's look of concern as the quick movements made him groan in pain. Sam only wanted to get away; he couldn't let Dean see him like this. His feelings towards his brother were inappropriate. Dean would hate him if he knew.

Dean looked up as Sam suddenly bolted from the room. He was hurting, and Dean frowned as Sam nearly managed to slam the bathroom door shut behind him. He was in good mind to tell Bobby that he'd phone back, but he couldn't believe that the hunter had called him. "I thought you were on a hunt with Rufus?" He nodded and rolled his eyes as Bobby spewed in anger about Rufus. Seemed like the hunt turned out to be nothing, just hours wasted on the road. "I need your help." Dean started to explain, not giving a damn about why Bobby was phoning them. Something in his voice must have told Bobby that it was urgent as the hunter immediately asked with what. Dean explained quickly and then bit down on his bottom lip as Bobby started to cuss over the phone.

_"Did you kill her, Dean?"_

"Yes, burned her at the stake." Dean replied. He had no remorse for his actions; the witch was responsible for several kids disappearing, only to be found days later dead.

_"Who broke her altar?"_

"I did. Then I knocked her out cold. We saved a kid and loaded the witch in the Impala and then we burned her."

_"Do you know from which Covent she was?"_

Dean shook his head before he remembered that Bobby couldn't see him. He was still staring at the closed bathroom door. "No."

_"What did the altar look like?"_

Dean shrugged his shoulders. "Normal table filled with sigils. A pentagram, some symbols that we've not come across before, blood, black candles. We didn't do extra research, Bobby. When we found out it was a witch, we left it at that."

_"The symbols that you haven't seen before, can you describe them?"_

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. "Hmm, one looked like an infinity symbol, but it was three symbols in one. Another looked like an old lampshade, but turned on its head. There was one that was in blood - like a wave crashing on the rocks, and..."

Bobby interrupts the younger man. _"Was there one that looked like a hand covered in flames?"_

"Yeah, why?"

 _"Shit."_ Bobby huffed. _"You fried a member of the Sehctiw-coven, one of the oldest black magic covens in the world. Their magic goes back as far as man's history. It doesn't wear off over time; it can only be lifted by a cleansing spell. And you've got only twenty-four hours to do so or the spell becomes permanent._

Dean looked at the closed bathroom door again. "What do I need for the cleansing spell?"

_"It needs to be done at the place where she recited the incantation. Do you know where that could've been?"_

"She didn't have time to say it at her place; we were on her to quick. She was unconscious while we drove to a deserted place with her. That's the only place she might've done it. Sam was the one who tied her up while I dosed the place. I heard her talk, but didn't ask Sam about it."

_"It was then most likely there. You need to go back to the place and perform the cleansing ritual there. You also need to go back to her place and do the same ritual. If everything works out the curse would lift immediately."_

"What do I need?" Dean asked again, pen ready to write down whatever he needed. He listened carefully as Bobby rattled off the ingredients, as well as the procedure to follow. It didn't sound too complicated. He thanked the older man and with a promise to let Bobby know what had happened he ended the call.

"Sammy," Dean called as he gathered the keys to the Impala and made sure he had his wallet on him. Few of the things required had to be bought. He'd seen a wiccan sign over the door of one of the little shops when they’d rolled into town and knew he'd be able to pick the things they needed up there. He also knew that Sam wouldn't leave this room, not with the curse on him. Dean couldn't help but grin. He knew how serious the situation was, but he couldn't help but to want to tease Sam a bit. But that would have to wait until he returned. Seeing that the door didn't open he sighed and walked closer. "Bobby said we can end this with a cleansing ritual. We need some stuff; I'm going to quickly get it. You stay here." He smiled as he heard Sam's mumbled response. "And don't do anything I wouldn't do while I'm gone, Sammy." He could practically hear Sam rolling his eyes. He made sure that the salt lines were still intact and then closed the door shut behind him and hurried to the Impala. He unlocked the car and climbed in, started his baby quickly, and drove off.

Sam remained in the bathroom until he heard the Impala roar to life. His aroused body had relaxed again and he was glad that Dean had left. He didn't want to answer any embarrassing questions from Dean, not with the bloody curse over his head. He took a seat at the lopsided table and looked at Dean's scribbled handwriting on a piece of paper. Dean would've been the perfect doctor. The faster he wrote, the more it looked like hieroglyphics than anything else. But Dean also had the ability to copy any other writing to near perfection. A trade he learned from a young age, but one that Sam struggled with. Sam knew he had to find a way to get Dean from not asking questions when he returned. He couldn't even come up with an excuse why Dean shouldn't because he knew the moment he opened his mouth the truth would come out. The truth that he'd been hiding for so long - he loved Dean; and not just in the way of brotherly love, but more in the way of incestuous love. Yes, he - Sam Winchester, would one day go to hell for the way he felt about his brother. Sam shivered. He'd been suppressing those feelings for too long and now with this curse over his head everything could get ripped open and apart. For a moment he contemplated taking off, but that would be unfair towards Dean, he could only hope that Dean wouldn't go there.

Sam lifted his head when he heard the Impala's engine again. He looked down at himself and grabbed his duffle quickly, pulling out clean clothes and disappeared back into the bathroom to change. Normally he would've changed in the room, but with his emotions so close to the surface it wasn't a good idea.

Dean opened the door and frowned at the empty room. "You still in the bathroom little brother?" He placed the items on the table top and turned to look around in the room. It seemed like Sam did come out, going by the state of Sam's duffle bag. He also noted that some of the pain killers were taken so at least it meant Sam had come out earlier. And by the look of things he was still in some pain.

He was just about to call out to Sam again when the door opened and Sam stepped out. "I was just about to start wondering if you drowned yourself." Dean wanted to keep the mood light.

"You'd be so lucky." Sam made the effort to grin. "What did Bobby say?" And then he wanted to kick himself for opening that conversation.

Dean went on to explain about what Bobby had told him and he held out his arm to steady Sam when the younger man blanched at the news that the curse would become permanent if they didn't hold the ritual within twenty-four hours.

Not wanting Dean to make any comment on the way he swayed, Sam started to bundle all of his clothes into his duffle. "How long does it take to make the potion?" He looked at the bag of things Dean placed on the table.

"Not long, it's fairly easy." Dean turned and took the stuff out of the bag and placed everything on the table. He then fished the things he'd taken out of the Impala from his pockets. "We just need to grind all of this up, mix this with these, throw this in there and then mix it with drops of your blood and it's done."

Sam had to smile. Dean just pointed to each of the items, not naming them. He could understand why. From what he could see there was dried bat wing, something that looked suspiciously like cat hair, he could see strands of spider web and then there was dried frog skin, rosemary and sage. There was also a large bottle of holy water. Sam assumed to mix everything together. He swallowed hard. "I don't have to swallow that do I?"

For one moment Dean wanted to tease Sam, but the look in Sam's eyes made him shake his head. "No, Bobby said it needs to be sprinkled at the place where we burned the witch and at her place. No drinking necessary."

Sam sighed in relief. "Good." He placed his packed duffle at the side of the bed and then walked over to stand next to Dean. "If you want to pack I can do this quickly."

"I'll help and then I can pack and we can get out of here." Dean took the small mortar and pestle set they had and placed the ingredients that needed to be grinded in it. They worked in silence together and it didn't surprise Sam one bit when Dean took his hand gently in his own and with a mumbled "sorry," he pricked Sam's finger, squeezing it tightly until the drops spilled into the murky liquid. Sam watched as Dean cleaned the prick on his finger and then smiled as he let go of Sam's hand. "There, all done."

"Thank you." Sam looked on as Dean used a sprig of rosemary to stir everything together and then sealed it in a tub. He had no idea where Dean got the container from.

"Put this in the car and I'll get you there." Dean pushed the potion into his hands and started to gather his stuff that still lay around. Sam nodded, picked up his bag and placed it in the trunk of the Impala and then moved into the passenger seat where he didn't have to wait long before Dean came back, his duffle in one hand and Sam's laptop in the other. He looked on as Dean closed the door, placed his own things in the trunk and then climbed into the driver's seat.

"Let's get this done."

Sam nodded, but remained silent. He could only hope that Dean would want to listen to music and not try to play Twenty Questions.

Dean pulled away and pressed his foot down on the gas. They had enough time to deal with this, but the sooner they could get it over with the better. He drove in silence for a while and then he grinned. It was the perfect time to get some things he always wondered about from Sam. "So," he started off and laughed as Sam groaned.

"When you where six there was this one incident where you didn't want to eat your vegetables." Dean started off and he grinned as Sam laughed out loud. "I know there was broccoli on your plate which you did not eat, but I had no idea what you did with it. Dad also knew you didn't eat it, but since there was no evidence that you didn't eat it, he had to let it go. So, spill little brother."

Sam could feel the dread rise in him as Dean's voice sounded up. He couldn't help but laugh at Dean's silly question. He felt himself relax again, the curse was still in place, but luckily the question was an easy one. "That was at the house we stayed at almost a month, right?"

Dean nodded.

Sam snickered. "I always sat on Dad's left and you on his right." He loved those memories. He only had a few ones where he, Dean and their dad sat down and had dinner together. "The foot of the table I sat at had a hole in it, just at the point where my knee rested. I found it one day when I was playing with my cars underneath the table. I didn't think much of it, until Dad threatened to skin me alive if I didn't eat my vegetables. I still don't know how I did it, but I managed to dump all of the broccoli flowers down there. They fitted perfectly."

Dean roared as he laughed. "That was clever, little brother." He then shook his head. "And now you eat all of your vegetables, or do you still find places to hide it?"

Sam shook his head. "No, I grew to love the taste. Now I do eat all of it."

"Would you've told me this if it wasn't for the curse, Sam?" Dean had to know. There were so many things about Sam that was unknown to him, especially since Sam went to Stanford.

"Yes, if you asked." Sam replied immediately.

"What would you not tell me?" Dean asked and didn't see how Sam went perfectly still.

"Sammy, I asked you a question." Dean looked at Sam, a smile still painted on his face; until he saw the way Sam tried not to let the words breach his mouth. "Sammy?" He asked in concern.

Sam's breath hitched as Dean's question settled over him. He never thought that Dean would get to know his deepest and darkest secret with just such a question. He could feel the tears rolling down his cheeks as he tried in vain to remain silent, but the words refused to stay inside of him, instead they spilled over...

"Dean," Sam shook his head again but he knew it wouldn't help. "I wouldn't have told you about the time we were in one or other fucked up town when I was twelve and the English teacher kept me back because he felt the assignment I handed in on _The Outsiders_ was beyond my skill level and that I had to have paid someone to do it on my behalf. That he hit me so many times before he just left me sobbing and still gave me a failing grade, even though at the end he realized that I'd done it on my own."

Dean shook his head, but even before he could reply with an answer, Sam continued.

"Or that I wouldn't have told you about my gym teacher when I was thirteen in yet another no-name town, who loved my _coltish long legs, soft hazel eyes and sun kissed skin_ so much that he forced himself on me and when I screamed he gagged my mouth with a pair of dirtied socks and rammed himself into me until I didn't feel anything anymore and when he was done and he saw the blood he told me it was my own fault, I should've kept still." By this time Sam was shaking in hurt, fear and confusion. He could hear Dean begging him to stop, but the words kept on rolling from his tongue and he spilled the last thing he never wanted to tell Dean.

"I never wanted to tell you that I was gay, that I never had sex with any other man, because I don't trust them, or how much I love you, more than life itself. How I know it's wrong and that I will go to hell, but that I don't care. That I wanted to be owned by you, caressed by you at night, filled with your cock until I didn't know my own name. Loved by you like I love you." Sam sobbed and reached for the door handle, only now realizing that Dean had at one or other stage pulled over and the Impala was idling on the side of the road. His knees hit the dirt hard, but he didn't care. He couldn't bear to see the disgust on Dean's face, the hate Dean must feel for him in his eyes.

"Sammy," Dean's voice was filled with pain as he reached out to his brother only to see Sam tumbling from the car. He managed to get himself out of the car and raced around to where Sam was on his hands and knees next to the open door. He crouched next to him and placed his hand on Sam's shoulder, only to pull back when Sam barked at him.

"Don't touch me. I know I'm dirty. I never wanted you to find this out, never." He shook his head as he managed to get to his feet. He didn't have the guts to look back at Dean, but instead he walked to the trunk and opened it up, lifting out his duffle back and slamming the lid shut again. "I know you don't want anything to do with me anymore. I will go. You will never have to lay eyes on me again." Sam started to walk in the direction from which they came. He knew they passed a truck stop a mile or two back, he was sure he'd could get a lift there.

"Damnit, Sam, stop." Dean found his voice at last. "We need to talk about this." He felt nauseous at the fact that his baby brother was raped; the fact that he didn't know about it and that it was too late now to do anything about it, unless he could find the son of a bitch and kill him with his bare hands. It troubled him that Sam was beaten over work he knew the kid had done himself, but the fact that Sam just told him what he wanted Dean to do with him, took Dean's breath away. He had pushed those feelings away himself, never thought on it again, and now Sam was telling him he felt basically the same. It was too much. "Sam." He tried again.

Sam shook his head. "I can't, I'm sorry. Please forgive me." Sam didn't look back but started walking. Dean reached out to place his hand on Sam's shoulder, but the distance between them was too big. He turned around and got back into the Impala with the intention to go after Sam when he saw the container on the floor. "FUCK!" He looked at his watch and gasped at the time that has passed. He had only about two hours left to do the cleansing ritual and he knew it would take more than two hours to talk this out with Sam. He couldn't let Sam be stuck with this curse on him forever; he had to get rid of it first. He cursed again, put the car in drive and with nearly burning tires he pulled away.

Dean found the site where they burned the witch easily. He hated the fact that Sam was not by his side, his brother's words kept turning over and over in his head. He had to concentrate on the words Bobby told him to say as he sprinkled the potion over the burned patch of earth. In silence, he got into the Impala again and sped to the witch's home where he repeated the ritual again. He had no idea if it worked since Sam was not there. Dean jogged back to his car and sped off, he had to find Sam.

****

o0o--Wincest_BB2013--o0o

  
Sam nearly stumbled over his own feet as he entered the roadside diner. It was in fact further to the truck stop than what he'd initially thought and with his aching body and pounding head he was grateful to reach the place at last. Out of habit he made sure to know where all the exits were and took a seat at the booth the nearest to the back door. He smiled tiredly at the waitress as she filled a cup of coffee and placed it in front of him.

"Anything to eat, hun?"

Sam shook his head. He wasn't hungry. "No, thank you."

"Well the first cup is on the house, but after that you've got to pay." She replied and then walked away.

Sam took the cup between his hands and frowned as he saw how much he shook. He needed to get away. He knew that Dean would come and look for him. He also knew Dean would kill him for what he had said. The waitress passed again and he grabbed her attention. "Do you know if any of the rigs are looking for someone to help?"

She shook her head. "You can go and ask yourself, most of them are hanging around outside, smoking."

"Thank you," Sam emptied the cup and rose to his feet. He took out his wallet and left a tip, even though he didn't eat anything. He made his way over to where a few truckers were leaning against the wall.

"Does anyone of you need someone to help?" Sam asked.

He waited patiently as the men looked him over. "Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere," Sam shrugged his shoulders.

"Are you running from the law, boy?"

Sam could feel the words settling on his tongue. He was aware that more than one police department or sheriff's office were looking for him and Dean. Even as he opened his mouth to tell the truth, something snapped inside of him. He took one step back and then shook his head. "No, I'm not running from the law." He didn't want to think about the lie that spilled from his lips. Dean had broken the curse; he was no longer grounded in the truth.

"Well you look strong enough." The same trucker spoke up again. "Name's Edward, but most folks call me Eddie. I need someone to help me haul stuff when I pick it up. I'm heading west, you interested?"

Sam nodded his head. "I'm in."

"Good, you see that blue truck over there?" Eddie pointed to the rig nearest to the road. "Meet me there in fifteen minutes, don't be late."

"I won't." Sam replied and turned around to use the restroom quickly. He knew that Dean would come looking for him here, but he also knew that he'd be long gone by that time. He arrived at the truck just as Eddie appeared as well.

"Good, you're on time. Let's go." He walked around to the driver's side and got in.

Sam scrambled up the side of truck and sighed as the big engine started and Eddie pulled away. He had no idea where he was going, but any place would be better than here.

****

o0o--Wincest_BB2013--o0o

  
Dean felt his legs gave way and he sank tiredly down onto the ground. He fumbled for his phone and pressed the call button. In his other hand he clutched Sam's phone. He found it in the trunk. Sam must've dropped it in there when he took out his bag. Dean had no way in reaching Sam.

"Bobby?" Dean's voice trembled with frustration. "Yes, the cleansing spell worked, but he's gone. Sammy's gone and I've got no idea where to even start looking for him." Dean watched as the sun lowered on the horizon turning the skyline into blackness and dread settled in his chest.


	2. The Whole Truth And Nothing But

**Chapter 2**

**1 Year Later**

Sam looked at the dust particles as they floated across the air, the single ray of sunshine lighting up the small room. He giggled happily and looked down as something crawled across his skin. Sam frowned; he let his hand drop to where it was trying to catch the fleeting particles and traced the trail of blood that snaked down the crook of his arm. He didn't attempt to wipe the substance away; instead he made swirly patterns and then huffed as the blood dried up. He wanted to scream out of frustration, he couldn't complete his picture, but then his eye caught the knife to his side and he smiled again.

Deep down he knew that what he was doing was wrong, but he couldn't seem to care. He reached for the knife and pressed the blade against the inside of his arm. Soon he sighed in relief as the pain soared through his body. The stinging pain mixed with the high of the drug that was cruising through him made him relax, made him forget for one single moment about the past; made him forget about everything in life that mattered.

Sam's head jerked up as someone crossed the floor. He frowned and then sat up straight as he saw who it was. _Matthew_ , it was the one man he wanted to hate with everything in him, but at the same time he felt grateful for his presence. "You got my stuff?" Sam sniffed and didn't even bother to get something to wipe his nose; instead he used the back of his hand. Already the high he experienced before was ebbing away.

"You have my money?" Matthew asked as he stood towering over Sam.

Sam nodded and pulled the bundle notes from his back pocket. "It's enough for three hits."

Matthew snorted. "It seems like you didn't get the memo. The price went up." He looked at the notes in his hand. "This is barely enough for one hit," he smirked. "But, since you're one of my best clients I will give you two."

Sam wanted to object, he Matthew was robbing him blind, but it wasn't as if he could go and lay a charge. He knew he could take him on, but this pusher had friends that always walked in groups of four and more, the odds never in his favor. He was still bruised from meeting them the week prior to telling Matthew that he was not trading fare. He nodded in agreement and grabbed the small packet before Matthew could change his mind. His hands shook as he pushed the packet into the bottom of his sneaker for later use. Sam looked up as Matthew still stood over him. "What do you want?"

Matthew smirked and dragged his hand through his midnight black hair. He stood at six foot two in his socks and there were few men that could brag that they were taller than him. Sam was one of those men. He was still surprised how gentle the giant was. He knew that Sam could take care of himself. His men bore witness to that fact and the only reason why they won was because of their numbers. The scary part - he knew Sam was not in top form, the limp he carried alone told him that. But, one on one Sam would still kick their asses good and solid. He knew Sam would be an asset for him, but so far Sam proved to be stubborn in that aspect. "Come work for me."

Sam's head snapped back and he frowned. "Haven't I told you about a dozen times already that I'm not interested? I'm not in the business of breaking bones."

"You'll get a week worth of supplies per month for free." Matthew bargained. Another pusher was moving into his territory and he needed the extra muscle.

Sam didn't respond. He looked Matthew up and down and then smiled. "You're scared. Someone putting pressure on you?" He shook his head. "I'm not interested."

Matthew growled in anger and lashed out with his foot. He caught Sam on the top of his chest and grinned as the younger man tumbled backwards. He kicked out again, but found himself on the ground as Sam blocked his next kick with ease, before he grabbed hold of his leg and twisted it hard, making Matthew the one hollering in pain. As he struggled to get to his feet, Sam got to his. By his stance, Sam was ready to fight. "Fuck," Matthew grabbed at his knee in an attempt to draw Sam's attention away. He cursed silently as it failed to work.

"It's not even sprained." Sam spoke softly. He clutched the knife with ease in his hand. He picked it up before he got to his feet. One lesson as a hunter he learned on early on - never leave any potential weapon around for your enemy to find and use against you.

"You going to stab me with that?" Matthew tried to get to his feet. He knew it was dangerous to take Sam on. He would have to use patience.

Sam shook his head and pushed the knife into the back of his jeans. "Get out." He moved aside, not taking his eyes of the drug pusher for one moment.

"I'll cut you off." Matthew growled.

"You're not the only supplier around here." Sam could feel the small packet pressing against his heel. He wanted the other man gone, he wanted to forget about everything and just stay in that one place that gave him peace.

Matthew mumbled something but got to his feet and moved away. He would make sure Sam got hurt for this.

Sam didn't even wait for Matthew to close the door behind him before he reached underneath his thin mattress in the corner for his drug paraphernalia. He took out the little bag with the syringe, new needles, lighter and spoon. Sam cursed as his hands shook and took a deep breath to calm down. He couldn't afford to spill any of his precious gold. He took out one of the little bags from his sneaker, placed a small portion of the drug on the spoon, mixed it with a bit of water and used the lighter to warm the liquid so that the heroin could dissolve easier before he drew it up into the syringe. Sam placed the loaded syringe down carefully, took hold of the long piece of rubber he used as a tourniquet to bind around his arm and sighed as he pushed the needle into his vein. He could feel the warm liquid entering his bloodstream and in his mind's eye he could feel it travel all the way through his body. The high was immediate and intense, he could feel the warmth spreading through him, his limbs felt heavy and it felt like he was floating. Sam's hand landed on his crotch, his cock hardened slightly and he pressed his palm up against the bulge, just keeping it there, not in the mood to jerk off.

Sam swallowed as the bile threatened to push up into his throat. Even after using for almost five months he still got nauseous in those first few minutes. Luckily he stopped puking his guts out and the ill feeling was a minor issue to deal with compared to the feeling of utter peace that surrounded him for the next three to four hours before he had to use again. He knew he could wait longer, but he didn't want to be reminded of the truth and of reality.

Sam struggled to his feet. He wanted to curl up on his thin mattress, but first he had to secure his living conditions for the night. Sam no longer bothered with sigils against evil or salt rings for protection. Instead he trip-wired the door, made sure his pistol was loaded and his knife within arm's reach before he sank down again, letting the drug take him away from what he didn't want to face, drifting off into a dreamlike state, but not really sleeping. He knew he got less and less sleep with the drugs he used, but he couldn't be bothered; it only meant he didn't have to face his nightmares. Sam sighed and let the drug take him away, letting him drift out of his body, not feeling the cold settle into the dark room, not hearing the raised voices of people arguing or shots being fired in the distance between rival gangs.

****

o0o--Wincest_BB2013--o0o

  
_Sam must've dozed off as he jerked awake with Eddie's curses in his ears. He grabbed hold of the door as the huge truck swerved wildly across the tar surface. He could only look on as Eddie fought to get control back over the large vehicle._

_He watched as the truck skid across a wet patch on the road, it was only then that he realized that it was not water, but oil. Eddie's knuckles were white as he gripped the wheel, he was already gearing down, but couldn't dare to touch the brakes, knowing that the wheels would lock and the truck would jackknife. Sam held tight, his eyes grew huge as a motor vehicle came from the front just as the truck swerved again. He heard his screams mixing with Eddie's, he felt the impact as the eighteen-wheeler collided with the small car. Sam lifted his hands in defense as the fire ball leapt up to the front windshield the second before he heard a deafening bang. He felt himself thrown backwards in his seat, his neck snapping back before being launched forward and the world turned black..._

"No!!!" Sam woke up as his own screams sounded in his ears. His body was covered in sweat and he trembled from head to toe. He managed to turn on his side before he heaved hard. Sam sobbed, he rubbed his chest - he could still feel the shards of glass imbedded in his skin. The nightmares never faded, it didn't matter how high he was, or how deep he slept; they found him and jerked him into awareness each and every time. Sam tried to switch off the memories that went hand in hand with the nightmares, but just as every other time he was incapable of doing that. Instead he was transported back in time...

_Sam could hear someone calling out to him and it was with great difficulty that he managed to open his eyes. The moment he accomplished that feat he wished he'd died. He felt himself tense up as the one wave of pain after the other crashed into him. There was not a part of his body that didn't scream out in pain. Even his eyelids throbbed. He wanted to gag and he must've made some noise as his head was turned and a vile tasting substance spewed from his mouth. He coughed hard and screamed, his voice sounded alien to his own ears. Someone was trying to get him to calm down. Sam had no sense of time or place. He could hear people talking to him, around him, but nothing made sense. He tried to focus on one thing, but the pain his body experienced refused to let him have that one piece of comfort. He tried to lose himself in the pain, wishing that darkness would claim him, but his consciousness refused to leave him even when he begged and begged._

_He remembered that he was lifted up and carried to a waiting helicopter. When they lifted him in he got jolted on the side and he screamed again, and mercy was bestowed on him with a pinprick in the crook of his arm and then silence filled his senses. He was unaware of the flight to the trauma centre or the looks of concern passed by the medical personnel that had to put his broken body back together again._

_Sam had suffered from a broken right clavicle. He had several broken ribs, his right ankle was busted - later rectified with a steel rod and some bolts; but the worst was the fractured pelvis. Although it was a simple break and luckily he suffered from no internal injuries he was in extreme pain, even when they dosed him up with morphine. When the windshield shattered some of the shards of glass made its way into his eye, leaving him half-blind in his left eye. He'd spend the first month and a half in a rehab centre before he could walk on his own. Thereafter he was discharge and having no access to the good drugs, getting drugs on the street became a necessity, until he got hooked on the big H._

Sam yelled out in frustration as he pulled himself back from the past. He knew it wouldn't help to dwell on it; he had to go on with his life, even if it was a fucked up one at it. He shuddered again and reached for the knife that was always next to his side. In the beginning he had used it for protection; now it was for relief. He understood why people turned towards self-harm. It gave him a way to deal with the anger, the frustration, the hurt and in a way the pain he suffered from each day. Sam really didn't mean to cut himself on purpose that first time, it had happened by pure accident. He looked down and dragged his finger over the three inch mark on the inside of his palm. He was sharpening his knife, deep in thought when a gunshot echoed through the night just after he had moved into this abandoned building, making the knife slip out of his hand and out of pure instinct he grabbed the knife and managed to slid open his palm. The pain he felt kept him grounded, made him able to focus on one thing, it made the tension flow from his body and from that moment on, he found it easy to cut himself again and again. Now, between shooting up and cutting himself he kept himself in a safe place, not getting lost in his past; the one place he didn't want to linger in. He knew that everything was far from being okay, but at this stage in his life, he really didn't care. As long as he had his knife and a few dollars in his pocket to buy his next fix he was happy. He didn't think about Bobby, he didn't even dare to think about Dean. Sam knew Dean would be more than disappointed in him, his big brother - the only person who meant the world to him, would be disgusted at him. It was better not to think of the past, or of Dean.

****

o0o--Wincest_BB2013--o0o

  
**15 Months After Sam Disappeared**

"I think I found him, Bobby." Dean sounded positive. "The motel clerk recognized his photo, even though she said it was about ten months back."

_"So he's no longer staying there?"_

"No," Dean's voice dipped into sadness. "But she did say she sees him regularly." Dean had to take a deep breath before he could continue. "She volunteers at the local shelter and Sam comes by every Sunday for something to eat."

Dean could hear Bobby's breath hitch, the silence over the phone speaking volumes. _"How sure is she?"_ Bobby's voice sounded out after nearly a minute of silence.

"She described him pretty well; she also referred to him as Sam." He didn't explain how she also said how much weight Sam has lost, or the fact that he seemed to have developed a cold which she said he can't get rid off; always shivering, always having a runny nose. She also explained that he'd became filthy, as if personal hygiene didn't mean anything to him anymore. She mentioned a limp and it was one more thing that had Dean worried.

_"Does she know where he stays?"_

Dean sighed. "She didn't want to commit to anything, but she said my best bet would be to go and look in the industrial area." He had to swallow hard. "Apparently there's a lot of empty factory buildings and condemned buildings where he could stay."

_"Damn it, do you believe he's sleeping in an abandoned building, Dean?"_

"I've tried every alias of him that I can think off, I tried my own, and I've tried our Dad's. Hell, Bobby, I even tried yours and nothing. He's not in any hotel, motel, rent a room by the hour, or any other type of accommodation in this town. The fact that I have a girl who identified him positively makes me believe I'm on the right track and I'm not giving up now."

_"I hear you, boy. And I never believed or want you to give up, but we're talking about Sam here."_

"It's not like we haven't slept in abandoned buildings before, Bobby. You know that sometimes it was better than nothing. It's better for me to believe that he's in an empty building than him sleeping in a park. But wherever he is, I'm going to find him. This time I'm not letting him go."

Bobby could hear the guilt in Dean's voice. _"It was not your fault, boy."_

"If it wasn't my fault, Bobby, then why is the one person that means the world to me missing?" Dean sighed and ended the call. It was his fault; he would carry that guilt with him for as long as Sam was missing and even beyond that point, of that he was certain.

****

o0o--Wincest_BB2013--o0o

  
Sam shuffled forward, he hated standing in queues, but this time it was his own fault as he first had to go to the only needle exchange point in the city that was situated more than twenty blocks away, and since he had no money to waste on a cab he had to walk. That led to him having to get hold of some drugs as the pain in his ankle drove him up the wall, and it made him want to get lost in the grips on an unhealthy high for a few hours reprieve from the constant pain he experienced. He shuffled forward again as he waited patiently to be served. His stomach growled and he had to think hard on when the last time was that he ate. The drugs repressed his appetite, making him eat less and less. He didn't really mind that. It meant there was more money for drugs.

When he reached the front he gave a friendly smile. He knew that the volunteers gave up a lot of free time for a bunch of losers, where most of them, including himself, didn't deserve the time they put in. He whispered a word of thanks and took the steaming plate of food and moved away from the line, finding a spot at one of the tables the closest to the door. With his back against the wall he sat down and started eating with glee. The food tasted good and for once his stomach didn't complain at the thought of being fed. Sam cleaned his plate in mere minutes before he sat back and watch the other homeless wanderers that filled the shelter's hall. In a sense they were a close knitted group of people. He knew most of their names, and he assumed most of them knew his. He sighed when his eye fell on Matthew and his crew. They normally stayed away from the shelter, but every once in a while they would come and grab something to eat as well. Mostly everyone knew that they were not homeless, but nothing was said, Matthew's crew caused a lot of problems if words got spoken against them. Sam sat up straight when Matthew caught him looking and the man's grin made him shiver. His hand reached towards his knife that was nestled in his pocket. Things between them had finally gotten to a blow and the only reason why Sam was still alive was because the cops showed up. He had managed to get away before the cops could get hold of him, but he was aware of the fact that Matthew and five of his gang members weren't so lucky. From then on Matthew and his crew made life difficult for Sam. He had to move out of the place that he slept in, now he found shelter in empty alleyways, under deserted bridges or a bench in the corner of the park.

Sam looked on as Matthew continued to stare at him. He kept his own gaze firmly on the other man, not once backing down. He knew if he did that, it would be seen as a sign of weakness. Sam gathered his plate as a commotion on the other side of the hall pulled Matthew's attention away from him. He could only hope that he'd have time to slip pass them unnoticed. Unluckily for Sam, Matthew saw the moment Sam headed out the door and he and his crew left their half-eaten plates of food on the tables and followed him out.

Sam could hear the footfall behind him as he rounded the corner and cursed softly. The alleys where emptied and he knew that if Matthew and his crew found him here alone he'd have a difficult time fending them off. Sam shook his head. He was tired of running; he just wanted to be left alone. When he saw that he found himself in a dead-end he took his stand. He didn't want to fight, but he didn't want to end up with a knife in his back either. He still had the scar from that. He shuddered at the thought. It had been years ago.

"Nowhere to run now, Sammy." Matthew's voice echoed through the silent alley.

"Don't call me that." Sam growled. His knife was in his hand, ready to fight.

"And why not, _Sammy_?" Matthew taunted Sam. He moved forward, flanked by two of his men while one other brought up the rear. "You're not very bright now are you, Sammy?" Matthew shook his head. "You think you're so tough and yet you let yourself be trapped in a dead-end." He grinned. "I must say, I'm going to be sorry to take your life, you were one of my better customers, but you had to be stubborn. You had to say no and then you went and you bought from someone else. Not nice, Sammy. Not nice at all."

"Do you always talk so much?" Sam sneered. He could feel the adrenalin racing through his body; together with the last bit of high he was experiencing made him almost feel invincible. He let the knife slide through his fingers. He knew he was showing off, but he couldn't help it.

"You're fucking dead!" Matthew yelled out of frustration as he leaped forward.

Sam had enough time to ready his stance as the men charged at him. All three where armed with knives, but by the way they were handling their weapons it was clear to him that only Matthew was comfortable with a blade and he focused his attention on him. It was always difficult to fight with knives in a group situation. There was always the possibility that you could cut one of your own if you were not careful. Matthew's two goons realized it early on and they withdrew from the fight as Sam and Matthew circled one another.

Matthew launched forward, his knife arm extending at a sweeping angle, but he missed as Sam danced away with ease. It was Sam's turn to taunt the attacking man. "Sloppy, Matthew, so sloppy. You want to work on your arm movement." He grinned and launched forward, nicking Matthew just underneath his ribs. He knew it stung, already the blood turned Matthew's shirt dark.

"Bastard," Matthew yelled out and stormed forward. No one had ever managed to cut him before, and it wouldn't happen again. He kept on attacking; pushing forward but at the same time he was impressed with the way Sam kept on blocking his thrusts and cuts. He grinned as Sam stumbled, his limp hampering his movement.

"Fuck," Sam cursed as he felt his ankle gave way. He tried to hide the pain as it spiked up his leg, but he knew Matthew saw him wince as the other man launched forward again. This time Sam was one second too slow and he felt the knife embedded into his side. The air left his lungs with a whoosh and he grabbed the handle to make sure Matthew didn't withdraw the blade. He staggered backwards and even as he fell and Matthew's boot caught him on the side of the head he could've sworn he heard the one voice in his life that meant everything would be okay. "Dean," Sam whispered as his hands turned red and his eyes slipped closed while he slumped backwards, not even feeling it when his head hit the dirtied path with a thud.

****

o0o--Wincest_BB2013--o0o

  
Dean sighed as he looked up and down the road. The lady from the motel had texted him saying that Sam came in for food. Since he was all the way on the other side of town it took him twenty minutes to get here. And now it seemed like he was too late. Sam had already left the shelter and Dean couldn't see him anywhere. He was about to walk back to the Impala when he heard a shout of alarm from a side alley. Something made him walk faster and as he drew his pistol he saw a man launching forward and for a second he could've sworn it was Sam's mop of hair he saw sticking out before the man fell to his knees. Dean's blood turned to ice in his veins as he realized it was in fact Sam, and he stormed forward. "Sam!" He yelled and raised his weapon. There were four men in the alley except for Sam; Dean had more than enough bullets to take them all out. But he only needed one. As the man who stabbed Sam turned, Dean squeezed the trigger, the sound echoed through the narrow street way. It was enough to let the other men flee; they were wise enough. Dean watched as the man sank to his knees. He'd shot him in the stomach and Dean knew he would not make it, but he couldn't be bothered. He walked past the man, his eyes only on Sam and he swallowed hard when he saw the knife protruding from Sam's side. "Fuck, Sam." Dean rid himself of his jacket and placed the bunched up material against the wound. "Sammy," he tried to get Sam to wake up, but when he heard the sirens in the distance he gave it up. He had to get Sam out of there and fast. He took off his shirt and tied it around Sam's waist, the jacket firmly in place.

Dean groaned as he lifted Sam up. He could feel that Sam had lost weight, but that didn't make Sam any easier to carry. He lifted him up and made his way to the Impala. Already people were gathering at the mouth of the tiny street. "Move," he shouted and shoved on person out of the way. He didn't look at any faces but bee-lined to his baby. He was about to curse again when he realized he'd have to put Sam down to open the back door when someone appeared next to him and opened the door for him.

"Thank you," Dean managed to say as he pushed Sam deeper into the car. He grabbed the blanket that was laying on the floor and covered Sam up. "Hang in there, kiddo." He leaped back out and nearly ran the person who opened the door over. He wanted to yell for the man to move, but the man beat him to it.

"Take care of Sam. We will tell the police it was a gang shooting." The man had no front teeth.

"Why?" Dean had to ask even as he climbed in behind the Impala's wheel.

"Because Sam is a good man." The man pushed the door closed and without turning back he walked off. Dean looked on for a second before he turned the key, put the Impala in drive and sped off. He had to get somewhere safe and clean to treat Sam's wound. He would ponder about the homeless man later.


	3. The Whole Truth And Nothing But

  **Chapter 3**

Dean hated the fact that Sam remained unconscious. He'd managed to find a decent motel two towns over, not wanting to drive any further. Dean got Sam inside and started to clean the wound. He hoped the motel had more towels because he had used every single one in the tiny bathroom to stop the bleeding. Dean winched when he saw how much weight Sam had lost. He frowned when he saw the different scars marring Sam's body. Some of them looked like surgical scars and he shuddered as he thought what could have happened to his brother. What nearly broke him, was the track marks on the inside of Sam's arms. He found the same marks on Sam's thighs when he stripped him of his bloodied jeans. At one pointed he wanted to shake Sam so hard, to hear what the hell was going on, but he had to get the knife out first.

Dean knew the gods were looking down on them when he found that the knife was not serrated and that the blade went in at a perfect angle between two ribs, causing no real harm. Although he had no medical training, he had his fair share of knife wounds and he'd treated more than one in his life. He could see by the angle that they were lucky. The fact that Sam's stomach was not hard under his touch or that there was no swelling made him belief that Sam was not bleeding internally. He would still make sure that Sam had no blood in his urine, but that had to wait until Sam actually woke up. He could go and find a medical store and steal a folly catheter, but he didn't think Sam would be too happy about that. It took him almost half an hour to work the knife out as he did it painstakingly slow, dapping the wound, pressing the towels down if it bled more. When the knife finally slipped free, Dean sighed hard. For the first time he'd noticed that his hands were shaking and he took a steady breath. It was not the time to start to panic. Luckily he prepared the needle and thread before he started and he only had to stitch Sam up. He used tiny stitches, not wanting to scar Sam even more than he already was and when the neatly done stitches stood out darkly against Sam's paled skin Dean wiped it clean with an alcohol wipe and relaxed for the first time since finding Sam. He knew that he had to keep an eye out for infections but at least the worst was over for now. He turned to the first aid kit, took out some antibiotics, prepared the shot and injected Sam quickly. He had no painkillers in vile form so he crushed up the strongest pain pills he had and with more patience he managed to get Sam's gag reflex to work and Sam to swallow the milky liquid sip for sip. He then dressed the wound and covered Sam up and looked on as Sam remained silent.

Dean stumbled backwards, his knees hitting the side of the second bed and he went down hard. "Fuck, Sammy." Dean dragged his hands over his face. They were still red from Sam's blood, but he didn't have the energy to go and wash them clean. He just sat and watched, hoping that Sam would wake up soon. Dean knew he had to contact Bobby, to let the man know he found Sam, but it could wait. Taking care of Sam was what he had to do right now. Nothing else mattered.

****

o0o--Wincest_BB2013--o0o

  
"Come on, Sammy." Dean groaned as he lifted Sam carefully to his feet. Sam smelled more than ripe and it was time to get him into a warm shower. The past three days he'd only managed to use a washcloth to clean his brother; Sam too out of it to manage a shower. Today Sam was more coherent, which made Dean take this decision. He groaned again as Sam's legs gave way and Dean said a silent prayer that he had most of Sam's weight in his arms from the beginning.

"Easy, brother." Dean took a tighter hold on Sam and slowly steered them towards the bathroom. Sam mumbled something, but Dean couldn't decipher it. Instead he soothed Sam down again. "Everything will be okay, let's get you cleaned up a bit and I can promise you, you'll feel human again."

Dean was glad for the fact that he had undressed Sam in the room; it would've been difficult to undress his giant brother in the small space. Instead he managed to get both of them into the tub and as he pushed Sam gently against the wall he opened the faucets and then maneuvered Sam under the spray when the water reached the required temperature. Sam immediately tensed up and tried to get away from the water.

"Whoa, easy, Sam." Dean stepped into the shower, not caring that he would get drenched. He was surprised when Sam leaned back against him and not put on a fight. He managed to wash Sam clean and took extra care with the wound in Sam's side.

"Okay, Sammy. It's time we get out of this tub.” Dean maneuvered their bodies and stepped out first before he helped Sam out. He hated the fact that although Sam was conscious and communicating with grunts or mumbles, he didn't talk at all.

"What do you say, let's get you dressed?" He dragged the towel over Sam's long hair and then guided his brother back to the room where he dressed Sam easily. He smiled when Sam's eyes drooped. "Looks like you're sleepy. It's hard work getting a shower." Dean helped Sam into bed and then made Sam take the required pain medication. All was done in silence. As Sam's breathing evened out, Dean sighed deeply before getting to his feet. His body ached, he was aware of the fact that all of his muscles were knotted tightly, but there was no way he could relax now. Not when he had to take care of Sam.

Dean took up his place on the hard chair next to Sam's bed. His baby brother was always prone to nightmares, but since Dean got him back it were as if they had multiplied. Sam never slept for more than an hour before he would start to whimper in fear. Where in the past Dean wouldn't have hesitated to get into Sam's bed, now there was something that stopped him - something that he didn't want to think about. Dean snorted at himself. He'd done nothing else except think about _that_ and look for Sam. Now at least he'd found Sam, but the other thing, that was present in the room with them like an elephant, and Dean had done everything in his power to ignore it. Except that it was not going away, it was staying right there.

"Not the time, Dean." Dean grumbled to himself as he leaned forward on his hands, resting his elbows on his thighs. Sam's words of so many months ago still haunted him. _'Loved by you like I love you...'_ He'd never gotten the chance to tell Sam how he felt, he never got to tell his brother that he loved him; that he would kill the bastard who robbed Sam of his innocence. That he loved Sam like Sam loved him. Now he wasn't sure--not about the fact that he loved Sam - never that--but so much water had gone under the bridge, he didn't know how Sam would react to this. He had a feeling that Sam would shake his head and tell Dean that the only reason he was saying something like that was because he felt pity for Sam. That couldn't be the furthest from the truth. Yes, Dean felt sorry, but no pity. Pity didn't belong in their line of work. But he still could feel sorry and guilt. More guilt than sorrow actually. Guilt because he wasn't there, he didn't protect Sam - it was his duty and he failed. Dean would do everything in his power to make sure he never failed Sam again. His eyes landed on the scars that decorated Sam's body. He still had no idea where they came from. The past three days had given him more than enough time to study them and they clearly belonged in three different categories. The surgical scars where easy to spot, the neat lines that were carved by a scalpel. The second group of scars was random - on his chest, his arms, and his face. Some only small pinpricks, others larger with rough edges, like when glass shattered and imbedded itself in flesh. Dean had a feeling that these two groups were linked together. But it was the third group that bothered him. Three days ago when he saw them for the first time they didn't make sense, but now - now he knew about each and every one. He knew they were _handmade_. Made by Sam's hand, no one else's. They were cuts - some hesitant, some done with more confidence. The length differed, but it was all done by the same knife. Sam's hunting knife that Dean gave his brother for his fourteenth birthday. The fact that they were all grouped together on the inside of his arms or his thighs where it could be covered up made Dean realize that Sam wanted them to be hidden; hidden from everybody, because people judged.

"Sammy," Dean sighed again. "We really are fucked up." Dean cradled Sam's head and let his fingers massage Sam's head lightly. "You know it's time for me to start weaning you of these pain meds, right? I mean, I never thought I would see track marks on you, but unless you got another reasonable explanation, which I know you don't, then those are indeed track marks." He couldn't help but drag his finger across the marks on the inside of Sam's arm. He felt so lost. He couldn't imagine how Sam must feel.

"I will not fail you again, Sammy. I promise." Dean placed his hand firmly on Sam's head and reached for the bed lamp with his other. Tonight would be the last time he would sleep in a chair, from tomorrow things would be changing.

****

o0o--Wincest_BB2013--o0o

  
Sam groaned and brought his hand up to his tightly wrapped chest. He hissed as he managed to press too hard. "Fuck," he tried to clear his throat, his voice hoarse in his own ears.

"Leave that alone, if you screw up my handiwork, I'll have your ass." The voice sounded next to him.

Sam whipped his head to the left. "Dean."

"The one and only," Dean grinned. "It's about time you woke up. I've been wondering how long you'll be out of it."

"Dean?" This time it was a question. Sam tried to sit up, but groaned as he found himself unable to do so.

"Easy, Sammy. Let me help you." Dean placed the mug down and walked over to where Sam was lying. "Let me do all the work." Dean waited until Sam nodded in agreement before he helped Sam upright. He placed extra pillows behind Sam's back and only when he was satisfied that Sam was indeed comfortable did he step back.

"Dean?" Sam asked again and frowned. "What are you doing here? Where are we?"

Dean took a sip of his coffee and looked around. They were in the middle of nowhere, tucked safely in a cabin which few people knew about. "Rufus owed Bobby a favor. This is it." He indicated to the cabin with his hands. He remained silent on Sam's first question.

"I don't understand." Sam tried to clear his throat and nodded in thanks as Dean handed him a glass of water. He tried to figure out where Dean had come from, but he kept on drawing a blank. He couldn't even remember the last time he spoke to his brother. He didn't want to speak to Dean. Sam started to panic. He didn't want to see the disgust in Dean's eyes. He tried so long and hard to forget about everything, and now Dean was back - now his brother was going to hate him. He could feel his chest tightening up, his breathing shallower. He fisted his t-shirt and at the same time he tried to get out of the bed.

"Whoa, easy there." Dean tried to press Sam back against the pillows.

"No!" Sam struggled and pushed hard at his brother, trying to dislodge his hands on him. "Let me go." He pushed harder as Dean refused to move and then grunted in pain as he moved too fast. Immediately he cradled his side with his hands.

"Damn it, Sammy." Dean growled as he managed to push Sam back against the bed. "Let me look." He pried Sam's hands away and lifted the t-shirt. Already the bandage was turning red. "Shit." He pulled Sam's t-shirt down again. "Let me get the kit." He didn't give Sam an opportunity to answer but grabbed the kit that was on the table and then returned to Sam's side.

Sam watched as Dean pulled his t-shirt up again and removed the bandage that covered the wound. "I can do it myself." He wanted to be spiteful. He wanted Dean to get angry and leave. He could deal with this on his own.

"Don't be childish." Dean snapped back. "Hold here." He gave Sam the antibiotic cream to hold as he prodded with his fingers at the wound. He sighed loudly. "You managed to pull at least three stitches. It seems to be closing up so I'm going use the cream and then butterfly strips."

Sam nodded but didn't reply. He looked on as Dean first cleaned the wound that at least had stopped bleeding and then gently applied the cream before using the strips to make sure the wound healed properly.

Dean looked up. "I'm going to wash my hands and then you and I are going to talk, little brother."

"There's nothing to talk about, Dean."

"I know that’s not true." Dean walked away and quickly was his hands. He grabbed some Tylenol and then placed one back. It was time to wean Sam as well. "Here," he placed the capsule in Sam's hand and passed the water to him as well.

Sam took the offered medicine and swallowed it down. "Dean," he started but then stopped as Dean raised his hand.

"No, I'm going first this time and you're going to listen." Dean took a deep breath. "When that fucking witch put the whammy on you I was angry, but I was also curious. You've always been honest with me and I just wanted to taunt you. I didn't know. I'm sorry." He sighed again. "There's so many questions that I want to ask you, but I know if I do, you're going to think that I'm blaming you, and that's not true. I know for a fact that you would've tried your best to get out of that situation, but I also know how scrawny you where at the age of thirteen. There wasn't much you could've done. I'm sorry that you didn't come to me and let me help you. But I'm here now, and I want to help you now. You need help now."

Sam bit into his lip. He didn't want to talk about this. He didn't want to start having nightmares about what had happened. He just wanted to forget. "I don't want to talk about it." He managed to turn away from Dean and he closed his eyes. "I'm tired."

"Sammy," Dean placed his hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Leave me alone, Dean." Sam pulled away. He was not going to deal with this.

"You can't ignore it, Sam." Dean tried again.

"Watch me. Now leave me alone, I'm tired."

Dean dragged his hand over his face. "I'll leave you for now, but this is not over." He stood up and packed away the kit. He then proceeded to pull out the laptop and started doing some research. He still had a brother to get through withdrawal.

****

o0o--Wincest_BB2013--o0o

  
**Three Days Later**

"No, nonono," Sam's head lulled from side to side. His sweaty hair was plastered against his forehead. His hands where tightly wrapped up in bandages as he kept on scratching his skin, angry dark marks decorating his forearms, face and legs.

"Shh, it's okay. You're safe, nothing's here. You're safe." Dean wiped Sam's face with a damp washcloth trying to keep him cool. It felt to him as if the research he'd done on heroin withdrawal was not enough. He was prepared for the sweating, the shakes, the fever, the cramps, diarrhea, vomiting, but the hallucinations were the worst. Due to what they'd seen in their lives, knowing what was out there, that made it worse. Sam kept on fighting monsters, evil all the way; from Wendigos to ghosts and even vampires. In between he was the scratching and trying to get rid of the invisible bugs and spiders that kept on creeping over him. The previous night Dean woke up from barely an hour of sleep finding Sam busy trying to scratch his skin off and he kept on mumbling that they were in him. Dean was forced to bind his hands so that he could do no further damage.

Sam called out weakly for Dean, his fevered eyes searching for the one constant in his life.

"I'm here, Sammy. Not going to leave you." Dean made sure to remain in Sam's field of vision. It seemed to calm his brother down if he could keep an eye on Dean the whole time.

"Dean," Sam licked his cracked lips. "Not real." He shook his head.

"I'm real, Sammy. I'm here." Dean helped Sam to take a few sips of water before letting him lie down again. Sam closed his eyes and Dean's shoulders slumped. Since they had their talk three days ago, Sam refused to talk to him, except for the basic things like please and thank you.

Sam didn't even argue with him when he told him he knew he had a drug problem. In fact Sam didn't even try to deny it and when Dean told him it was time to get clean, Sam just nodded his head and accepted it. Dean tried to tell him what to expect, but it was clear that Sam had shut him out.

The first day was not bad. Sam was grumpy and paced a lot, he had cramps but it helped when Dean placed a hot water bottle across his stomach. The second day the shivers started, Sam started to sweat and vomit and that lead to the diarrhea. In under an hour Dean had to get Sam to shower three times. Soon he was weakened and Dean got him to lie down. That's when the first hallucinations started. If it wasn't for Dean's good reflexes Sam would've managed to hit him so hard that he would in all likelihood still be unconscious, or suffered a severe concussion. From there on everything went downhill and it went down fast.

Dean had thought that the scratching was the worst; that was until Sam started to plead. He begged for a hit, pleaded that he only needed one more and then he'd come clean. He'd turned on his puppy eyes to an extent that Dean knew that even Lucifer himself wouldn't have been able to say no. Dean had no other choice, if he wanted his Sam back he had to say no. Sam didn't take to well with that. Dean was happy for the fact that they were out in the middle of nowhere because Sam went ballistic.

He attacked Dean, he overturned the table and all of the chairs, he swiped everything off the kitchen counter and he started to hit himself. At that stage Dean had managed to overpower him and got him subdued, Sam was crying, his body shook with hard sobs. He begged Dean over and over, and even started to say that he would blow Dean for a hit. Dean had seen red, but managed to contain his anger, knowing it was the drugs that were talking and not Sam. When Sam sagged against the floor, Dean got him to his feet and helped him to bed. He made sure that Sam had not injured himself and then as Sam's breathing evened out he closed his own eyes. Only to be awoken an hour later. Now it was the end of the third day and it felt to Dean if there was no end in sight.

"Dean," Sam's voice sounded up again. "Dean," he called again. His eyes searching.

"Here, Sammy. Right here." Dean wiped Sam down again and smiled as Sam leaned into the touch.

"Sorry," Sam shivered hard. "Sorry," he repeated the word again.

"You've got nothing to be sorry about, Sam." Dean pulled up the blankets to cover Sam's body. He knew that within the next half an hour he would have to pull the blankets down again. At least it looked like Sam's stomach was settling down.

Sam shook his head. "Sorry, sorry." He repeated the word again. His eyes were glazed over.

"Sammy," Dean cupped Sam's face with his hands. "You've got nothing to be sorry about, I promise you. Everything will be all right." He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on Sam's sweaty brow. "Everything will be all right." He looked on as Sam's eyes closed again and he slipped into another round of restless sleep.

When his phone rang, Dean jumped. He didn't except a call and his first instinct was to ignore it, but as he looked at the screen and saw Bobby's name he answered it. He had phoned Bobby the night before they started this whole mess getting Sam drug free.

"Bobby."

_"Dean, how's it going, boy?"_

Dean sighed. "I don't know how to answer that, Bobby." He was so damn tired.

_"What do you want, son? You want me to come and help? I can be there in about nine hours?"_

Dean shook his head. "No, no. I don't think Sam would handle it well if you saw him like this, Bobby. It seems like the worst is over, he’s just left with some chills and fever." He didn't want Bobby there. This was his burden to bear. He had let Sam down; it was his responsibility to make sure Sam came through this.

_"Are you sure, Dean? I can imagine just how little sleep you've been getting. I can sit with him, while you rest."_

The offer sounded so good. But Dean really had no way in knowing how Sam would react. He had no desire to go and look for a hallucinating Sam in these dense woods should his brother decide to make a run for it in a attempt to get away from Bobby seeing him like this. "It's all right, Bobby. We're fine."

_"You boys and that damned word 'fine'. I wish I could throttle it out of you."_

"I'll talk to you soon, Bobby." Dean knew he was being rude, but still he ended the call; he knew Bobby had a point. They always used the word _fine_ whenever there was a problem. It was just the way things were. He turned his attention back to Sam and smiled. It seemed like Sam's chills had subsided and he was no longer sporting a fever. So maybe, just maybe there were over the worst of it.

****

o0o--Wincest_BB2013--o0o

  
Sam woke up with something warm pressed up against his side. He turned his head and his gaze landed on Dean. His brother was wrapped around him as if he was keeping him safe. Sam groaned. He'd once again managed to fuck up Dean's life. He tried to rub his hand over his face and frowned when he saw his hands were wrapped up. He frowned and then flushed. He could remember how he went on and on about the bugs under his skin, millions of invisible little creatures that crawled all over him. "Fuck," he whispered under his breath. He was surprised that Dean was still sleeping. With his teeth he managed to undo the one bandage and rolled it off his hand. The second hand was easier. He then slipped out from beside Dean and nearly tumbled to the floor as the whole room spun like crazy. He was about to tumble forward when a hand steadied him from behind and pulled him down on the bed again.

"Easy," Dean's voice was filled with sleep.

"I'm fine." Sam pulled away.

"Bobby's right." Dean mumbled and then hauled himself out of bed. "You look better, how're you feeling, Sammy?"

"It's Sam and I'm fine." Sam stood up again, this time taking it a bit slower. "I can take care of myself."

Dean rolled his eyes. He should've known that Sam would still be pissed. He knew it was a defense mechanism in keeping him away, but he was not backing down. "You're not getting rid of me so easy, Sam."

Dean followed Sam into the kitchen and as Sam took a seat at the table, he sat down across from him. "I'm here to help. You may not like it, but tough shit."

"I didn't ask for your help," Sam snapped.

"I know, but that's beside the point. You're my brother; there will never be anyone more important to me than you, Sammy. You're my life."

Sam's head snapped back at the words. That's the closest Dean has ever come in saying that he loved someone. He had no idea how to respond to that or what it meant.

Dean could see the impact his words had on Sam. He wanted to tell Sam how much he loved him, but he knew Sam would bolt the moment he uttered those words. Instead he used other words, but it seemed like Sam still got the meaning behind it.

Sam shook his head. "You sure got a shitty life, Dean if I'm your life." He lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Damn it, Sam! Stop saying you're sorry! I'm sick and tired of hearing you saying you're sorry!" Dean slammed hard on the table. "You're the one who got the raw end on every deal; if there's one person that should not have to say sorry, then it's you." He lowered his voice. "I'm one of those people who should say I'm sorry. I let you down. I told you this before, and I'm going to keep on telling you this over and over again. I'm sorry, and you've got nothing to be sorry about."

"Why should you be sorry, Dean? You were not the teacher that beat me to an inch of my life. You were not the one who pinned me down and raped me. You were not the one who made me take those drugs. You've got no guilt in this; you've got no reason to be sorry."

Dean stood up and kneeled before his brother. "But that's just it, Sammy. I wasn't here, I didn't protect you. The guilt is on me." He stood up and walked away. "For that I am sorry, Sammy."

Sam lowered his head into his hands. Both men remained silent not one of them speaking again for the rest of the day. Sam went to bed early, his body still hurting. The last remainder of the drugs still clinging onto him for dear life.

Dean watched as Sam finally drifted off to sleep. He knew Sam was right, but he was also right. Both of them were shipping guilt that was not meant for them. But his whole life revolved around Sam, taking care of him, watching out for him. It was difficult not to blame himself for what had happened.

There was also one other topic they didn't touch on. He knew Sam was aware of it as well, and it was one that needed to be addressed. He closed his eyes and he could hear Sam's words as they spilled from his mouth after that question Dean had asked...

_"I never wanted to tell you that I was gay, that I never had sex with any other man, because I don't trust them, or how much I love you, more than life itself. How I know it's wrong and that I will go to hell, but that I couldn't care. That I wanted to be owned by you, caressed by you at night, filled with your cock until I didn't know my own name. Loved by you like I love you."_

"I love you like that too, Sammy. I just don't know how to make you see that as the truth when I tell you." Dean kicked of his shoes and took his place on the couch. He knew he would not get sleep, but at least his body would get some rest.


	4. The Whole Truth And Nothing But

  **Chapter 4**

Dean frowned as he woke up and found the cabin quiet. Even when Sam slept he was always moving. Not a moment would pass before he would move an arm or a leg. Dean groaned as he managed to heave himself off the couch. "Sammy?" He called out as he started towards the bed. "Sam!" Dean called again as he entered the room and found the bed deprived of his sasquatch brother. "Fuck," Dean looked around as if he would find Sam hiding around the corner.

"Sammy!" This time the panic rose up inside of him. "Sam, where the fuck are you?!" Dean bellowed. There was no sign of Sam inside the cabin. Dean grabbed his pistol from the low coffee table and headed out. He sighed in relief as he spotted the Impala where he parked it. He would've heard Sam starting his baby up, but it still felt good to see her there in all of her glory.

The clearing around the cabin bared no sign of Sam. Dean started to look for tracks and cursed as he found that Sam had moved into the woods. "I'm so going to kick your ass, Sammy." He muttered under his breath.

It was not difficult following Sam's trail. It was clear that Sam made no effort to move carefully, he stomped on ahead, making it easy for Dean to follow him. "Like a bull in a china shop," Dean mumbled as he passed yet another tree where the small branches were ripped off.

He moved on in silence, not bothering to call Sam's name out, instead he saved his breath as the trail Sam took gradually became steeper. It took Dean more than forty-five minutes before he first caught sight of Sam. His brother was seated on a fallen tree, his knees drawn up to his chest.

"Sam," Dean sighed and then hurried forward. "You care to explain to me what you're doing out here?" He hopped onto the fallen log and took his place next to his brother. Already his eyes had scanned Sam's body for any injuries. He was happy to find none, except for a scrape of two which Sam had picked up on his track through the woods.

Dean cocked his head as Sam remained silent. "You going to talk to me?"

Sam turned his head and looked at Dean and then slowly shook his head. He didn't want to talk; he didn't want to hear Dean's words of disgust, anger and hate.

Dean snorted. "Funny, Sam. You're the one who always wants to talk, so why not now?"

Sam lowered his eyes. He had no idea how to explain this to his brother. He could feel the urge in himself to let the blood seep out and color his thighs pink. It was what he needed - it would make him able to think clearly again. "Just leave me alone," he snapped and came to his feet. "I don't need you." He started on the track back to the cabin, not even looking back at Dean. Sam didn't want to see the hurt in his brother's eyes.

"Fuck," Dean slapped his hand on his thigh and then got up to go after Sam again. He was not surprised to see that Sam took another trail and was not heading back to the cabin. Sam always ran away when he wanted to think. This time Dean was not going to let him do it. He was happy to note that the trail Sam chose this time stayed level and that the trail he was following was a game trail which made it a bit easier. He kept Sam in his sights, but chose not to close the distance between them. He knew Sam was aware of the fact that he was following him.

Sam wandered on. His body ached and his strength was dwindling, but he didn't want to turn back. There were so many things that he needed to think about. What to do next, where he stood with Dean, how to clear up this mess he had made with his life. Because he had made a mess - a huge one, which by the look of things, Dean once again had to sort out.

The trees opened up in front of him and he came to a halt. In front of him was a small lake, the dark waters called out in a sense of tranquility and peace. He walked to the edge of the lake and sat down. He was aware of the fact that Dean came out of the trees and took up his place a few feet behind him. Sam crossed his arms over his knees and sighed. His mind raced with thoughts and images. He didn’t know where to start, what to do, or what not to do to. "I need to get away from here." He didn't speak too loud; he knew Dean would be able to hear him.

"No."

"You don't understand."

"Sam, I do understand. But, no. You're done running, I'm done running. We're facing this together."

Sam growled. " _This_ , Dean? What's _this_? Are you referring to the fact that I'm a loser and an addict? Or maybe you're referring to me loving you in a way I should not?" He snorted. "I thought that I was over you, but I was only kidding myself. I'm fucked up and I need to get out of here." He groaned as a cramp to his stomach hit me hard. "Fuck." He didn't need his body betraying him now to remind him of another weakness. He tried to breathe through the pain, but the pain only intensified, forcing him onto his side, whimpering hard. Sam didn't even hear Dean move closer to him, he only realized it when Dean spoke next to his ear.

"Breathe through the pain, Sammy. It will be over soon." Dean stroked Sam's hair.

Dean was on his feet and running towards Sam the moment his brother fell to his side. He kneeled next to Sam and from the way Sam clutched his stomach, Dean knew his baby brother was experiencing cramps. He knew that until the cramp subsided there was nothing he could do. He kept on stroking Sam's hair talking to him softly.

"Dean, hurts." Sam gasped as the cramp intensified yet again. "Fuck," he groaned and huffed hard.

"Easy, Sammy." Dean hated seeing Sam in pain. "Let me help you." He placed his hand over Sam's abdomen and with circular motions he rubbed Sam's stomach. His other hand kept Sam steady. "I know it hurts, but this will help."

Sam tried to move away. He knew the rubbing helped, but it still hurt and the way his body tensed up didn't making it any easier. "Dean."

"I've got you, Sam." Dean kept calm as he rubbed over the muscles. He could feel the cramp letting go and he decreased the pressure on Sam's tummy. "It's almost over, Sammy, just a bit longer."

Sam started to relax. Within a few moments the cramp had disappeared in total. He was exhausted. He sank back against Dean. "I hate this."

"I know, buddy." Dean let Sam lean against him. He knew that this could happen again and he wanted to get Sam back to the cabin before the next cramp hit. "I know you're hurting and want to stay right where you are, but we need to get you back to the cabin. You would be more comfortable there."

Sam groaned. "Can we wait a few more moments?"

"Sure, take your time." Dean would not move Sam until his brother gave him the nod.

Sam took some deep breaths and then nodded. "Okay, let's do this."

"Good, let me get up first and then I'll help you up." Dean came to his feet and extended his hand for Sam and helped to pull his brother to his feet. He hated to see how pale Sam has gone. "You all right?"

Sam nodded his head and slowly the two brothers made the track back to the cabin. "Dean, can we stop for a moment?" Sam was out of breath. He was cramping up again and even though he hated showing signs of weakness he knew that unless he wanted to face plant in front of Dean they would have to stop.

"Dean made no snarky remark but came to a halt. "Take your time, Sam." They had a while to go; he didn't realize how far they went into the woods. He waited patiently. When Sam gripped his arm hard, Dean knew time has run out. "Sammy?"

Sam grunted the cramps where back with a vengeance. "Shit," his legs buckled and if it wasn't for Dean's hold on him, he would've landed on the ground. "I thought this was over."

"Sorry, Sammy takes about a week or two before the worst is over." Dean answered soberly.

"It sucks!" Sam gripped at Dean's hand again. "It's getting worse."

"Do you want to try to get to the cabin?"

Sam shook his head. "No, fuck." He tried to roll himself into a ball, but Dean kept him in place. "You know that won't help." He pulled Sam's shirt up and placed his hand on Sam's naked flesh. "Try to relax." He started to rub Sam's stomach muscles again.

"Hurts too much." Sam hissed.

Dean knew he had to get Sam to focus on something else. "Tell me about the limp and the different scars. How did it happen?"

Sam became rigid in Dean's hold for a second and then his body relaxed. "You deserve to know." He moved so that he was nearly lying on top of Dean and then swallowed once. "After I left you I got a lift from a trucker called Eddie. We were on the road for about three days when we were involved in an accident. There was an oil patch on the road. Eddie tried to avoid it, but the truck started to skid and then there was this car." Sam dragged his hand over his face. "I, I can't remember everything, I know there was fire and I think I went through the front windshield. I don't remember much afterwards, except the pain.” His hands traveled over his body. “Sometimes I can still feel the pain."

"How long were you in the hospital?" Dean didn't want Sam to linger on the memories of the pain.

"After the initial month in hospital, I spent another month and a half in rehab." Sam's hand moved to his shoulder bone and then his face. "I broke my right shoulder bone. Some ribs got busted and my right ankle pulverized." He huffed. "They put it together with a steel rod and bolts; that's why I'm still limping - will not go away." He looked at Dean. "I'm half-blind in my left eye after some shards of glass of the windshield got in. I also fractured my pelvis. I had to relearn how to walk again."

Dean was silent. "I'm sorry, Sammy. I didn't know."

Sam shook his head. "Not your fault, Dean." He shrugged his shoulders. "It's life; I've adapted." Sam did not elaborate on how he chose to adapt. He used his hand to wipe away the sweat on his brow. "The cramps have stopped."

Dean nodded. "Think you can make it back to the cabin?"

"Yeah, I can make it." Sam refused to tell Dean how totally exhausted he felt.

"Good, but let's take it slow." Dean helped Sam to his feet and slowly the two brothers started the last track back to the cabin.

****

o0o--Wincest_BB2013--o0o

  
**Six Days Later**

Dean was dead on his feet. Although Sam was slowly but surely getting over his addiction it was still strenuous on both men. Dean now slept on the lumpy couch as he didn't want Sam to find out how he felt about him. He knew he had to tell Sam how he felt about him, but he knew his brother. Sam would go ballistic. Words would be said, or at least screamed at one another, which would make things even more difficult. His thoughts and feelings kept him awake for most hours of the night. The slightest movement or moan from Sam made Dean get up to check on him. In the end he only got about two to three hours of sleep a night. He yawned again and stretched hard. "You want something to drink, Sam?" Dean asked as he got to his feet. He needed coffee and he needed it bad. It didn't matter that it would be his sixth cup for the day and that it wasn't even midday yet.

Sam shook his head as he kept on reading. He could see Dean looked like hell. The dark rings underneath Dean's eyes made him look like a raccoon. "Dean?" He waited until Dean turned to face him. "Are you all right?"

Dean cocked his head. "Yeah, Sammy. I'm fine."

Sam shook his head. "No, you're not fine."

Dean shrugged. "What do you want me to say, Sam?"

"I want you to be honest with me, Dean."

"Honest with you, Sam? Since when has that ever been a good idea between us?" Dean raised an eyebrow as he filled his mug with coffee.

Sam lowered his head. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Dean sighed. "Sam, you don't even want to discuss this whole business with what has happened to you. Your addiction and how you feel about me are taboo topics and now you want me to be honest?"

Sam blushed. "You're right; it's not a good idea. Just leave it."

"What would you say if I told you that I feel the same about you?" Dean blurted out and looked on as Sam's head nearly snapped in two as he twisted to face Dean.

"What?" Sam's hands trembled and he placed the book down on the floor next to him. "What do you mean?"

"I love you, Sam. Like you love me. Or how you loved me, I'm not sure if you still feel the same. Everything has been so fucked up and complicated that it feels to me like I'm spinning out of orbit and have no idea what to do, what to say, or how to react." Dean's hands trembled and he placed them on the table. He stilled and looked at Sam, waiting for Sam's reaction.

Sam could feel his chest contracting, his airway closing up as Dean's words penetrated his mind. "How? Why?" He shook his head. "Dean?" His fist contracted around his shirt as he tried to get some air into this body. "Why?" he shook his head again. "Why would you say something like that? Do you hate me so much?" He managed to get to his feet and stumbled away from Dean who was walking towards him. "No, don't come closer. Leave me alone!" Sam stumbled to the door.

"Sam, stop." Dean held up his hands in surrender. "It's dark outside, don't go out. I will not come near you, just please, don't leave."

"I, I don't know. I need air." Sam shook his head, his body trembling hard. "I know it's not true. You know it's not true. You're just saying this because you pity me. You can't mean it, Dean. You can't."

"Sammy, please." Dean pleaded and took a step closer. He wanted nothing more than to take Sam into his embrace and hold him close.

"NO!" Sam yelled out. "Don't Sammy me. I don't need your pity. I know I'm fucked up." He opened the door and stepped outside. "Just let me be." He stepped of the porch and walked away from the cabin. He would not go far away, he knew Dean was right on that point, it was dark and it would be stupid of him to wander off in the dark. Especially with his limp leg.

Dean watched as Sam stepped into the dark. He wanted nothing more than to follow Sam, but he also knew he had to give Sam the space that he so clearly needed right now. Dean knew he fucked up by blurting out his feelings to Sam in such a way. He was tired and was clearly not thinking straight. But he couldn't take the words back. He didn't want to take the words back. He could only hope that Sam would listen to him when he'd calmed down.

Sam kept on walking until the cabin's lights didn't reach the spot where he came to a halt. He had no idea what to do. Dean's words kept on playing over and over in his mind. He couldn't for one moment believe that they were true. There was no way in hell or on earth that his brother could feel the same way about him as he did about Dean. He never thought that Dean would steep so low as to say something like that to him. His chest hurt just at the mere thought of it.

Sam knew he had to find a way to deal with this. He had to get over it and make sure that he put it behind him. Dean would not have to say those words to him again. He took a deep breath and steadied himself. He would talk to Dean about this once, and it would never be mentioned again.

He found Dean seated at the kitchen table. "Dean?"

"Sam," Dean stood up. "I'm sorry. I..."

"No, Dean. You don't need to be sorry about anything. I know why you said what you did. If I was in your shoes I would've most likely said the same. I'm sorry that you felt that you had to tell a lie like that to make me feel less of a freak. I'm sorry if I said or did anything that gave you the indication that you had to lie like that. I will make sure that it doesn't happen again."

"Sammy, no. It's the truth." Dean tried to explain.

"Stop, Dean. Please, don't do this. I know you've got no _romantic_ feelings towards me. I will not let you lie to yourself or to me about this. So, please, drop it."

"But, Sam."

"NO! Dean, stop it! Stop trying to convince yourself that you _love_ me in that way. You don't and I can't expect if from you. So let's leave it. We will not speak about it again." Sam's shoulders sagged forward. "I'll see you in the morning, I'm tired. Night, Dean." He turned around and headed to the room, leaving a flabbergasted Dean in his wake.

"Fuck," Dean whispered. He wanted to go after Sam, but knew it would serve no purpose. He would not leave it there. He would have to make sure that Sam knew that he did indeed mean it.

****

o0o--Wincest_BB2013--o0o

  
**The Following Afternoon**

Dean watched Sam sitting on the porch reading again. He had tried to talk to Sam again, but his brother had managed to either side step him, or ignore him the whole day. It was time to grab the bull by the horns.

"Sam," Dean stepped out onto the porch. "I love you. I love you with more than my heart. I've said it before, and I will say it again. There will never be anyone more important to me than you, Sammy. You're my life. I want you to be in my life forever. I want to be in your life forever. I want to be able to hold you close. To make love to you and I don't care what the world has to say about it."

Sam remained quiet for a long time. He could only stare at Dean.

"Sam?" Dean shuffled nervously.

Sam shook his head and let his hand catch the hair that covered his eyes. "You always were a bastard, Dean. But I thought that at least you'd respect our relationship. I never picked you for one to be this selfish and hurtful. I can't tell you how sorry I am that you know how I feel about you. I can't deny those feelings, but I've stayed out of your way. It's not necessary to act this way towards me. I don't deserve it." Sam stood up. "If you love me like you say you do, you will not mention this again. Please, Dean. Don't do this."

Dean had no response. He looked on in silence as Sam walked passed him and entered the bedroom before his brother closed the door with a silent click. He saw the bottle of Jack standing on the counter and picked it up. At least there was something he could do, even if it was just to get drunk. As Dean took a seat at the table his eye caught his dad's journal lying next to their one duffle bag and he bent over and picked it up.

"Now I understand how you could spend hours with this journal open, sipping alcohol. You were looking for answers. I can only hope that I have better luck in finding any than what you did, Dad." Dean opened the journal and slowly paged through it. He was unaware of the time that passed until his eye caught an entry that he'd never seen before. It was scribbled down in the left bottom margin in pencil. By the way the handwriting was slanted he could detect that his dad was not quite sober when he made the entry.

_Empathetic Bond - Permanent - Spell_

_A spell to bind together two souls in a empathy bond. Not to be use lightly. From what I've seen this seems to be the real deal. Can't be undone. Fairly simple, but needs to be done in conjunction with this potion._ Dean followed the arrow that pointed to the other side of the page. It was a standard potion that rendered the person drinking it unconscious for a period of time to enable the spell to work. Dean then went on to read what the spell and the potion required and frowned. He couldn't understand why he'd never seen the entry before.

He stared at the entry for a very long time. He had nothing to lose, in fact if he wanted to keep Sam; he had no choice but to go through with this. He knew he would need Bobby's help. That meant that he had to come clean about his feelings for Sam to Bobby, but he couldn't care. Sam meant too much to him to worry about what Bobby or for that matter anyone else would say.

"We're leaving for Bobby's tomorrow." Dean whispered the words before he took the last ship out of the tumbler and placed the nearly empty bottle back on the counter. He had made up his mind. He would make Sam see how much he loved him and he would do everything in his power to do just that.


	5. The Whole Truth And Nothing But

  **Chapter 5**

**Bobby's Place**

"Dean, I don't think that's a very good idea, boy." Bobby huffed as Dean placed his empty mug into the sink. The boys have been at his place for the past few days and although he loved having them there he could feel the tension between them from a mile away. Things got a lot interesting when Dean explained to him what he was up to.

"You don't have to like it, Bobby, but I'm still doing it." Dean replied and turned to face his surrogate father. "You've seen how he is and there's nothing I can do to chance that. And trust me, I've tried everything."

"But a binding spell, Dean? You do realize that those are permanent."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yes, Bobby and that's the whole point. I need it to be permanent. If there was any other way, I would do it."

"Is it even safe?"

"It's in Dad's journal, so it must be safe."

"I'm going to ask you to wait another day or two. Let me have a look at the spell, do some research. If I find it's above board and after a few days you still want to go ahead with it, I won't object." Bobby held his breath. It was the only thing he could do. He was still surprised that Dean told him everything and with now knowing what he did, he could understand where Dean was coming from. He always knew the boys loved one another more than how normal siblings do, but in their life, living in one another's pocket twenty-four seven, it changed things. He couldn't fault them at all. For Sam to withdraw into his shell because he thought that Dean pitied him and Dean not knowing what to do, it did call for desperate measures, but they still had to be sure. "Dean?"

Dean nodded once. "I'll wait, Bobby." He looked up as he heard the floorboards creak above his head. "Sam's awake." He picked up the tray of food and headed to the stairs.

Bobby sighed as Dean walked away. It was another way in which Sam had withdrawn from them. He only got out of the room when he had to use the bathroom, for the rest of the time he stayed hidden behind the closed door. Bobby knows Dean had tried to get him out of there, hell he tried, he even begged but the stubborn boy stayed put. "Sam, why do you do this to yourself?" He picked up John's journal and turned to the marked page. It started to look more and more like Dean's way was indeed the only way.

****

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Sam stared out of the window down into Bobby's scrap yard. The days were long, a soft breeze blowing in the air, cooling things off. He was finally rid of the physical withdrawal symptoms, but he couldn't shed the depression he found himself in. He didn't want to get out of the funk; he wanted to stay huddled inside of himself and didn't want anything to do with the world outside. He knew both Dean and Bobby were concerned about him, but he couldn't find himself to care. It was dark inside of him; no light could penetrate the blackness that settled within.

He sighed as he heard Dean coming up the stairs. He turned away and hoped that Dean would leave him alone. Apparently luck was not on his side as Dean started talking the moment he entered the room.

"I brought you your breakfast. Bobby went into town and got you some fresh juice as well." He placed the tray on the bedside table and took his place next to Sam. He cleared his throat. "I know we've been over this before and I know you don't want to talk about it and you don't want to hear it, but I do love you." Dean looked at Sam. He could still remember when he first told Sam that he loved him. For a moment there was a spark of life in Sam's eyes, before Sam suppressed the emotion and his eyes filled with distrust. He could still feel the heat of Sam's words as his brother accused him of only saying it because he felt pity towards Sam. Sam had gone on and told Dean that if what Dean had said was the truth he would've said it years ago. Dean had tried to explain that he had to push down those feelings, because he felt that it was inappropriate. He had no idea how his younger brother would react to such news and although Dean knew Sam had the same fears, Sam couldn't see his side of the story. He refused to talk to Dean about it at all.

"I'm not hungry." Sam didn't turn to face his brother.

Dean sighed and brushed his hair with his hand. "Sammy, please."

"I'm tired." Sam stood up and started to lift the bedspread to climb in again.

"Bullshit. You are not tired. You're avoiding me, you’re avoiding us and I'm tired of it." Dean felt so frustrated.

"Whatever, Dean." Sam turned away from Dean and settled under the covers. He heard Dean sigh again before Dean stepped away and left the room. He closed his eyes and forced himself to sleep.

****

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"I'm doing it, Bobby. I had enough." Dean paced Bobby's study. “I need him to feel what I feel, it feels to me like I'm losing him, Bobby and I can't let that happen."

Bobby looked at the younger man and nodded once. "I have to ask you although I know what the answer will be; are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

Bobby nodded. "Okay. I had a look at this potion and we've got everything that we need for it right here. The spell part is easy, but, how are you going to get the potion that goes with it into Sam?"

"Don't you worry about that, even if I have to force it down his throat, I will do it. But this stops now. I love him, he's my life and I will NOT lose him."

"I know, Dean. I don't want to lose him either." He looked at his watch. “The potion needs about two hours and we'll do the spell as soon as the potion is ready. You've got an hour after the spell to get the potion into him and make the spell permanently."

"Where do we start?" Dean rolled up his sleeves and as Bobby directed him he started on the ingredients for the spell.

****

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Sam's eyes snapped open as his latest nightmare made him whimper out hard. "Fuck," his hands trembled as he dragged them over his face. His eyes landed on his shaving kit and the need bubbled up from inside. His still trembling hands found the marks on his arms and they travelled down to the lines on the inside of his thighs. Since the day he woke up in the cabin he had yet to cut himself, but this time around he knew he won't be able to say no. He needed it, he craved it.

He got up from the bed and walked softly to the door. He opened it up and listened for movement downstairs. He could hear murmurs from Bobby's study and he closed the door with a nearly silent click and then locked it. The kit on the dresser shouted out in loud silence. Sam turned away but immediately turned back again. "Just some small cuts, that's all that I need," he whispered to himself. He grabbed the kit and moved to the bed. The razor blade sat at the bottom and Sam could feel himself calming as he looked at it, but on its own, it wouldn't be enough. The blade was cold against his skin, his fingers wrapped around it with ease.

Sam looked at his arms and then groaned. There was no way he could gut his arms, Dean would notice it immediately. Sam placed the blade down and locked the door quickly. His sweatpants landed on the floor in a heap and he stretched out on the bed. He didn't even bother about a towel, not wanting to cut deep, just wanting to take the edge off.

The first cut was a mere scratch and Sam experienced no relief. He took hold of the blade again and dragged it across the skin. He sighed as the blood trickled through and as he lifted his hand the pain caught up and it made his pulse race. Sam could feel the tension seeping from his body. The blade was placed over and over on various places on his inner thighs. The pulsing pain let him experience an endorphin rush that he missed out on for a very long time. Sam was so deep within himself that he didn't hear Dean coming up the stairs. His hand slipped as Dean pushed at the door and he hissed as the blade sliced deep into his flesh. "Shit!"

"Sam!" Dean called out as he pushed at the door and found that it was locked. "Sammy!" His knuckles rapped hard on the door and he turned the knob again. "Sam, open this door, now." He looked over his shoulder as Bobby ran up the stairs. "He's not answering." Dean stepped back and placed a well aimed kick to the door, feeling it shatter underneath his boot. "Sam!" Dean stepped into the room.

Sam was seated on the bed, his lower body covered with the bedspread. "Dean! What the hell?"

"Why's the door locked, Sam?" Dean stepped into the room, his eyes taking in every small detail.

"It's my room, Dean. If I want the door locked, I can lock it." Sam said pissed.

"You never lock your door, Sam. So I'm asking you again. What's going on?" Dean stepped closer to the bed. He frowned as he saw the deep red droplets on the cover. If it was his bed he would say it was something that he spilled while eating in bed, but Sam was anal about eating in bed, he hated it. He took the material between his fingers and rubbed at the spot. It turned his fingers red.

"Are you hurt, Sam?" Concern crept into Dean's voice.

"It's nothing, Dean." Sam pulled Dean's hand away from the cover. "Just leave, I want to be alone."

Dean shook his head. "No, I don't think so. Something's going on and I want to know what."

"There's nothing going on, Dean. Now, please leave." Sam was desperate in getting his brother and Bobby to leave. He could feel the blood running down the inside of his thigh. Already the sheet beneath his leg was becoming soggy.

Dean knew that what he wanted to do next was going to make Sam livid with him, but Sam was hiding something and he had to know what. He yanked at the cover and even as Sam yelled, his eyes fixed on the red patch on Sam's thigh and the razor blade that lay between Sam's legs. Dean grabbed the cover and pressed it hard on the wound as he saw the volume of blood that flowed from the cut. "What the fuck, Sam?" Dean pushed his brother's hands away, as Sam tried to stop him from attending to him.

"Let go, Dean. It has got nothing to do with you." Sam moaned as Dean increased the pressure.

"You either let me tend to this, or I will let Bobby hold you down, Sam." Dean nodded to Bobby to enter the room. He wanted to make sure Sam knew he was serious.

"I'm not a child, Dean. Don't treat me like one." Sam pushed at Dean again.

"Then stop acting like one." Dean snapped back and lifted the sheet. The blood flowed again. "This needs stitching." He looked at Sam. "You've got one of two choices. You either let me or Bobby stitch this up, or we drive to the emergency room and if they see the marks on your thighs you know they will admit you for psychiatric evaluation. Choose."

Sam realized that Dean was serious. "I, " he took a deep breath. "You, you can do it." He lowered his gaze and leaned back against the pillows. He covered his eyes with his arm as Dean took his other hand to put pressure on the wound.

"Hold this." Dean moved away and fetched the first aid kit from across the room. He wanted to be angry, he wanted to yell and scream, but Dean knew it would not help. It only made him realize more that he needed to do the spell. He couldn't think of any other way to get through to Sam.

Dean cleaned the slash and using the smallest stitches possible he patched Sam up again. "This will burn," Dean mumbled as he pressed the alcohol swipe over the incision to clean the last blood. He took a piece of gauze and taped the place close. "All done." He didn't look at Sam as he cleared the supplies and left the room to clean his hands. He returned to the bedroom and found Bobby gone and Sam just as he had left him.

"Sam..."

Sam shook his head. "Leave it, Dean. I don't want to talk."

Dean sighed. "Then answer me this and I will leave you alone. Was this a weird attempt to take your own life?"

Sam's head snapped up and he blushed. "No. It's, it's something else. You won't understand. Now, leave."

Dean nodded before the turned around. He came to a halt in the door. "I love you, Sammy." Dean didn't look back but exited the room and went down the stairs again. It was time to do the spell.

Dean found Bobby in his study. All the ingredients for the potion that accompanied the spell where laid out on the table. He looked at Bobby. "Thank you."

Bobby grunted. What he'd seen upstairs had rocked him to his core. Now, for the first time he understood the urge within Dean and he would do everything in his power to help Dean. To help Sam and Dean.

They looked over the spell in John's journal again. Bobby made a few changes to the diagram painted on the black slab and then cleared his throat. He took the ceremonial knife and as the Latin rolled of his tongue he ran the blade over Dean's skin and drew the first blood. The ritual started and there was no turning back.

****

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Sam closed his eyes as Dean walked away. He had no idea what to feel. Dean could've made things so difficult for him, but instead he cleaned and stitched him up and only wanted to know if he was trying to commit suicide. Sam knew he was a failure in Dean's eyes, hell, he was a failure in his own eyes as well, but once again he found himself not being able to care. He only wanted to sleep.

He's eyes snapped open as he felt someone next to him. He was groggy from sleep. "D'n?" He tried to clear his throat and then started to struggle as strong arms pinned him to the bed. He found his voice and screamed again. "DEAN!!" He received no answer but he was pinned down harder and his mouth was forced open. Something vile was poured down his throat and even as he tried to spit it out, his jaw was forced closed and his nose pinched so that he had no choice but to swallow.

He gasped for air when the hands released him and by this time he could make out the figures that lingered above him. "Dean, Bobby?" He whispered in fear. _"Christo."_ Nothing happened.

"Sorry, Sam. It was necessary." Dean's voice was filled with sadness.

"What, why?" Sam tried to get up from the bed, but his vision blurred and he swayed as a wave of dizziness assaulted him.

"Easy." This time it was kind hands that pressed him back. "You'll feel better in the morning and then we'll talk." It was Dean who held him down as his limbs refused to work. His eyelids grew heavy and as he felt them closing he looked at Dean again. His brother's eyes were filled with tears. "D'n," he slurred the word but nothing else escaped from his mouth as the sedative they worked into the potion took him down into the realms of sleep. Only when Sam's breathing evened out did Dean let the tears drip down his face. He hated doing it, but he had no choice. For the spell and potion to work, Sam had to sleep through the binding process. Dean was scared that Sam would find a way in stopping the process if he remained awake. It was for the best.

****

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Sam groaned, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and he smacked his lips together in thirst. He opened his eyes as a cool hand was placed on his forehead. He frowned but gulped greedily at the water when the cup was placed against his lips.

"Easy, Sammy, not so much." Dean's voice sounded next to his ear.

Sam moaned as the cup was pulled away. "More," he tried to chase after the cup.

"You'll hurl, Sam. I'll give you more water in a moment." Dean helped Sam up and let him sit back against the pillows stacked at his back. "How're feeling?"

Sam frowned and then he remembered. "You drugged me, you fucking drugged me." He tried to push Dean away and swung his legs over the bed to get up.

"Sam, no." Dean pulled his brother back onto the bed.

"No? No? You mean I dreamt that you and Bobby pinned me down and forced something awful down my throat?" Sam sneered.

"No, you’re right. But we had to. I had to." Dean tried to explain.

Sam snorted. "You fucking drugged me." This time he managed to get to his feet. "Leave me the fuck alone. I can't believe this." He was still unsteady on his feet, but he managed to get to the door. “Just fucking leave me alone." Sam shook his head and headed out of the door. He found Bobby at the top of the stairs and moved past the hunter without a word. He made it out of the door and found a secluded spot deep within the heart of Bobby's salvage yard.

He leaned back against the heap of scratch and soaked up the soft rays of sun that shined down on him. It was still early in the morning, but already warm and Sam knew it was going to be another scorcher of a day. He slid down the wreck and folded his legs up to his chest, letting his head rest on top of his knees. He felt hurt and angry at the same time. The two persons in the world that he trusted with his life had drugged him. He had no idea why, and in a way he felt betrayed. He knew Dean would have an explanation for his actions, but he didn't want to hear about it now. Now he just wanted to be alone.

Sam's thigh throbbed where it was stitched. His fingers found the gauze and he let them linger there for a moment or two. He was still only dressed in a t-shirt and his boxers and he could see the other white marks that decorated his skin. There were more scars that he could remember. It spoke of dark times. Sam knew that he owed Dean an explanation. Even though Dean knew what had happened to him after he ran away, there were still things Dean was in the dark about, although knowing Dean his brother had figured everything out already.

Thinking of Dean made his heart ache and Sam brought his hand up to rub over his heart and then he felt it. He could feel something - emotions deep within him that weren't his own. His own emotions consisted of bleakness and despair, underlined with anger at the present moment, but the feeling inside of him pulsed with warmth, but sprinkled with sadness as well. It was as if a second person was hooked up inside of him. He rubbed over his chest again. Sam didn’t know what to make of what he felt. He wasn't even sure if it was real what he felt, or if it was a result of whatever Dean forced down his throat. He leaned back and rested his head against the rusted car. A while later he opened his eyes when a shadow fell over him and looked at Dean standing over him.

"I know you're mad at me and at Bobby, but I can explain. Please, let me explain."

Sam was not sure if it was the tone of Dean's voice or the way Dean looked at him that made him nod his head in agreement. He even let Dean help him up and without words the two brothers headed back into the house. They met Bobby who was seated at his desk.

"Do you want me to make myself scares for a while?" The older hunter asked.

Dean shook his head and Sam shrugged his shoulders.

"If it's all the same with you, I do think I will go to town for a bit and come back later. You boys have a lot to talk about." He stood up and walked to Sam. Bobby placed his hand on Sam's shoulder. "I'm sorry for what we've done, but I do believe it was done for the right reason. I hope that one day you'll be able to forgive this old man." He tugged at the cap on his head and then left the two brothers alone.

Dean walked to the kitchen and brought back two tumblers. "I need a drink; I think you'll need one as well." He didn't wait for Sam's reply but poured them two stiff shots of Bobby's good stuff. He handed Sam's glass to him and then took a seat at the end of Bobby's desk. "I have no idea where to start with this. It feels to me like wherever I start would be the wrong place. But I have to explain, I need to explain." He took a deep breath and then swallowed down the amber colored liquid. "The day that fucking witch used that truth spell on you, I was a bastard. I had no right to ask you those questions, but I pushed and I hurt you - something that I never wanted to do. When dad entrusted you in my care that night, I made a promise to myself that I would look out for you; that I would be the world's best big brother and I tried. But on that day, I let you down. I let myself down." He made himself another drink before he continued.

"It was funny when you told me how you tricked me and dad by hiding those vegetables of yours. When you told me about that fuck nut teacher, I was livid and wanted nothing more to go and find that man and beat him to within an inch of his life like he did to you. I thought it couldn't get worse, but then the words kept on flowing out of your mouth and I could see the hurt, anger and shame in your eyes when you told me about that sick fuck. I wanted to hold you close, I wanted to protect you, but I had no idea how. I've let you down and I could see how much you hated me right at that moment when you told me how he'd raped you." Dean picked up the bottle and took a swipe from it directly.

"When you explained that you where gay, I wanted to blurt out, me too! But how could I? How could I in that moment explain to you that all those girls where just an act and that the only thing that I wanted, was to be with men, more specifically one man - you. I noticed you the first time after your fifteen birthday; after that hunt in Fort Lauderdale with the poltergeist who managed to pour that seven paint cans over you. You came out of the shower, the water droplets were running down your skin and I couldn't take my eyes off you. I immediately felt nauseated, because what was wrong with me? I had no right to feel for you in that way. I was so angry with myself and that was the time I became distant. You and dad argued more, and I found myself staying out of the fights, not wanting to take your side out of fear that dad might find out how I felt about you. The fact that I looked more at guys and how their asses looked in their jeans made me even more uncomfortable around you. It was as if I was blaming you for me being strange. It took me quite a while to realize that there was nothing wrong with me. That who I loved had nothing to do with anyone else, but by that time you'd already left for Stanford. I was ready to go after you, but there was one thing holding me back. You were my brother, and I didn't want to see the loathing in your eyes if I told you how I felt. I couldn't deal with the knowledge that you would hate me if you ever found out how I felt about you. So I kept quiet. I kept that one secret to myself."

Dean lowered his gaze and wiped his hands on his thighs. "I wanted nothing more than to tell you how much I love you. How you meant the world to me, but I knew that the moment I told you, you would accuse me of pitying you. But I'm not, Sam. I love you, and after our last fight at the cabin I didn’t know how to convince you of this fact until I found this." Dean took up John's journal that was splayed open on Bobby's desk. He held out the book to Sam and waited patiently for his brother to take the offered item from his hands. "I found that entry in the margin. It was the first time I've seen it, since forever. I was desperate and I couldn't think of any other way to get you to understand how much I love you so I decided to do it."

Sam looked at the entry and then let his hand linger over his own chest again. When Dean spoke to him he could feel Dean's emotions within himself. He could feel Dean's nervousness, but he could feel Dean's love for him. It was shining like a beacon, guiding him to safety.

"Does Bobby know?"

Dean nodded. "I told him how I felt about you. I explained to him that I was desperate. He was skeptic about the whole idea, but he looked at the spell and the potion and said it was safe. He didn't want to drug you, but I persuaded him. I didn't want you to find away to make the spell undone. It was the only thing I could think of."

"What does Bobby think?"

Dean frowned. "About?"

"About you loving me? Me being in love with you."

"He huffed, told me it was about time to come clean and that hopefully now the two of us could stop moping around and settle into a better routine."

"He knew?" Sam sounded flabbergasted.

"He knew. Said he could see it for years and just waited for us to wake up and smell the coffee."

"And he has no problem with it?"

Dean shook his head. "None at all." He looked at Sam. "Are you willing to forgive me yet?"

"I don't know, Dean." Sam rubbed at his chest again. "I think the spell has worked, I can feel you. Here." He showed where his heart was. "It's as if every word you speak and every emotion you feel is reflected within me. I can feel you telling the truth, believing in what you're saying and I have to ask, do you feel me?"

Dean nodded once. He could feel Sam's emotions so clear as if they were his own. His brother was hurting. Self-doubt and darkness filled him and it made Dean want to gather him in his arms and to never let him go again. "You've got no reason to be ashamed, or to blame yourself for anything, Sammy. None of this was your fault. And I can promise you, I will love you forever. I know you need the time to get use to this, and I'm willing to give you the space, but I'm not willing to let you go. I'm going to fight for you and this time around I'm not running away from my own feelings, and I will not let you run away from yours either." Dean stepped closer to Sam and pulled him closer by his shirt. "I love you." He leaned in and kissed Sam softly on the mouth before releasing him again and stepping away.

Sam had no words. His fingers traced his lips where Dean's were pressed against his. It tingled a bit, but it felt right. He managed a smile and then nodded. "I promise not to run away from my emotions or from this, but you're right, I do need some time." He turned and went up the stairs. There were so many things he had to think about.

****

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Bobby found Dean nursing yet another drink when he returned home a few hours later. "Balls, did it go down that bad?"

Dean snorted. "No, it didn't. It was the biggest chick flick moment of my life, but it was worth every second. Sam's upstairs, he needs some time, but I'm feeling confident. We'll get through this." They had still lots of stuff to work through, including the fact that Sam felt the need to cut himself and his addiction. Sam might be through the physical withdrawal, but mentally he had a long road ahead of him and Dean planned on being there next to him every step of the way.

"It's good to hear. I'm heading out in the morning. Got a ghoul problem to take care off. I'll be back in a week or two. So, the two of you got this place to yourself. Work things out, Dean. I don't want to lose either of you boys. You're the only family I have."

Dean could hear the emotion in Bobby's voice. "Thanks, Bobby." He stood up and accepted the hug Bobby shared with him.

"Will you give me a moment with Sam? There are some things I need to set straight with him." Bobby indicated with his head to the second floor.

"Sure, Bobby. I have a feeling he's waiting for you." Dean watched as Bobby went up the stairs. He knew Sam had already forgiven their _surrogate_ father.

****

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Sam's voice sounded clear through the door as Bobby knocked and waited patiently for the reply to enter.

"Sam," Bobby greeted the young man as he entered the room.

"Bobby," Sam smiled. "I don't think I've ever seen you so nervous before."

"When I got married to Karen I felt about the same as now, but for totally different reasons." Bobby took a step closer. "Listen, kid, I'm sorry."

"I know, Bobby, and it's all right. I understand."

"We're all right?"

"We're all right, Bobby." Sam reassured the older man. He sighed. "But I have to ask, are you all right with me and Dean? If you're not, I can understand that."

Bobby held up his hand. "I'm all right with you and Dean, Sam. You two share something that few people on this earth ever get to share in - pure love. I don't have any problems with it." He smiled. "That's as long as you keep it low and not ever let me catch you doing it on my kitchen table."

Sam blushed and laughed. It was the first time Bobby heard Sam laugh so openly for a long time, it felt good to hear.

"I don't think we're there yet, Bobby, but I promise."

"Then we're good, Sam." Bobby turned to leave. "As I explained to Dean, I'll be away for a week or so. Talk things out, I'll see the two of you later."

"Thank you, Bobby." Sam settled on the bed, his mind wondering about what had happened these past few hours. Since he could feel Dean's emotions so clearly, it made him feel calmer; more in control of his own emotions. It was as if everything slotted into place. He was under no misconception that things would run perfectly from day one - they were both too stubborn, but they could work things out, they worked well as a team and this was a partnership. If Dean was up for it, then so was he. Sam concentrated on what he felt inside of him. His body was filled with warmth; no longer did he have this dreaded feeling in the pit of his stomach. Dean's love for him pulsated through his veins and Sam could feel it in every inch of his body. He focused on Dean's face as he thought back at the conversation Dean shared with him down stairs. There was no pity in Dean's eyes; they had only shone with determination and with love. Sam could always see when Dean was bullshitting someone; he always got that look in his eyes. This time it was absent, Dean was being honest and that's all that Sam wanted. It was time to give Dean a chance. Both of them had suffered enough, it was time that they healed together.


	6. The Whole Truth And Nothing But

**Chapter 6**

**Three Days Later**

Sam gasped as he pulled away, his hands were still curled in fists gripping Dean's shirt. They were seated on Bobby's lapidated sofa, making out like two horny teenagers, but Sam loved every moment of it. "Fuck," he licked at his lips. They were swollen and hot from all the kissing.

Dean grinned. "You like kissing me, Sammy." His voice was filled with arousal.

"I do." Sam grinned. "Don't think I'll ever get tired of it." Sam leaned in and sighed as Dean's lips slid over his and started to kiss him again. He opened up and groaned as Dean's tongue slipped inside. He loved the way Dean's tongue felt in his mouth, he loved giving up control and let Dean devour his mouth. Dean's hands where clenched in his hair, his long fingers stroking Sam's scalp, making Sam want to purr with pleasure.

Sam managed to find the buttons on Dean's shirt. His fingers trembled, but he managed to undo them and even as he was still pressed against Dean he found a way to rid Dean of the shirt. Sam's hands traveled lower and found the hem of Dean's t-shirt. He pulled it up and over Dean's head, only breaking their kiss for a mere second.

Dean's skin was hot against his fingertips. The smooth skin made him whimper in need. He broke the kiss and latched onto Dean's left nipple. Immediately Dean arched into the touch, his brother's hands holding tighter onto his hair, pushing him against his skin, not wanting Sam to break away.

Sam suckled at the bud, loving the way it hardened beneath his tongue. He realized that he had a fetish for Dean's nipples and he hoped his brother would not mind if he semi-attached himself to them for a long time to come. Sam's fingers found the twin nub and he rolled the bit of flesh between his fingers, letting it harden as the one in his mouth. Soon both Sam and Dean were moaning at the pleasure Sam shared with Dean.

"Fuck, Sam." Dean hissed as his nipples became over sensitive. He loved Sam's mouth on his, but he wanted more. Their petting and kissing had become more intense the past few days and Dean wanted to give Sam more. His one hand sneaked down Sam's body until he let it come to rest on Sam's stomach, just over the waistband of his jeans. Sam's t-shirt was crumpled up and Dean let his hand travel over the naked flesh that peaked out. Sam's stomach muscles quivered at his touch. He used soothing circles but edged lower every time. When Sam made no attempt in stopping him, Dean managed to pop the top button of Sam's jeans open. Sam's erection bulged against the jeans and it was with some difficulty that Dean managed to lower the zip. He took Sam's cock in his hand and fondled it through Sam's boxers. His brother was moaning against his chest, and he could feel Sam bucking forward in an attempt to get even closer. He let go of Sam's cock and smiled as Sam groaned against him. Dean pulled at Sam's hair until Sam let go of his nipple. "Do you trust me, Sam?" Dean sounded out of breath. Both of their pulses were racing hard.

Sam nodded once. He could see how Dean's eyes were blown with lust; he knew his own eyes looked the same. "I trust you."

"Good," Dean grinned. He pulled Sam to his feet and undressed Sam with ease, before getting rid of his own clothes. He looked at the couch and then at Sam. "On the other hand, I think we should take this upstairs. Will be a lot more comfortable."

"Okay," Sam agreed and as Dean took his hand, Sam had no problem following his brother willingly up the stairs.

In the bedroom, Dean turned on Sam and pressed Sam against the wall, kissing him hard again. Their skins glowed in rich tones as their touches brought the blood to the surface, making the nerves come to life. Dean's hand slipped down Sam's body and found his ass. He loved the way the twin globes felt beneath his fingers and he kneaded them hard. It made Sam groan and Dean did it again. Dean led Sam over to the bed and made Sam lay on his back before he got up on the bed with him and covered Sam's bigger body with his own. "Gonna make love to you the whole night." Dean breathed the words against Sam's skin.

Sam groaned and arched under Dean's touches. It felt as if his body was on fire, the barest touch by Dean made him want more. His hands found Dean's head and he dragged his fingers through the short cropped hair. He gasped out loud as Dean's mouth found his nipples and made him ripple in pleasure. "Dean, Dean." Sam's head lulled from side to side. "Need, need. Please, Dean." He gasped and then whimpered as Dean released the nipple with a loud pop.

"Want to taste you, can I taste you?" Dean nearly begged.

Sam could feel himself blush, but at the same time he nodded in agreement. "Please."

Dean didn't wait, but moved down Sam's body in one shift motion. He settled between Sam's legs and then took Sam's straining cock within his hand and kissed the crown gently. Sam's smell filled his senses and he kissed the crown again, his tongue lapped at the tiny slit, letting the drop of pre-cum settle on his tongue before swallowing it down.

Sam's cock ached with need. It felt to him as if he was unable to breath as Dean's mouth enclosed around his shaft. He wanted to buck up into the scorching heat, but Dean had pinned his hips to the bed, making it difficult to move.

Dean loved the way Sam tasted on his tongue and he lapped at the head again, wanting more of the clear liquid that flowed from his brother. He used his hands to stroke Sam's cock in conjunction with the movement of his mouth. Sam was making the most wonderful noises that Dean had ever heard. His own cock strained against his stomach, aching hard. Dean's fingers traveled lower, cupped Sam's sack and gently rolled it between his fingers. Sam's balls were silky soft and heavy with need. Dean brought his hand to Sam's mouth and nearly gasped as Sam took them in deep and sucked hard. He let go of Sam's cock with a pop and groaned in pleasure. "So good, baby. Love the way you suck my fingers. Get them all wet for me, want to get them inside of you, stretch you on my fingers, getting you ready for my cock."

Sam moaned around Dean's fingers. His brother's words made him want to shoot his load just thinking of the images Dean sketched.

Dean pushed his fingers deeper in Sam's mouth. "Can't wait to feel your mouth around my cock, but not now, now I want to be in you - I need to be in you."

Sam stretched out his hand and found the small bottle of lube that they've been using for hand jobs the past few days and pressed it against Dean's hand. "Yes, fuck, please."

Dean's hands trembled as he took the offered tube. He opened it up and coated his fingers liberally with the lube. He settled between Sam's legs again and moved them apart. His finger brushed lightly over the puckered area and grinned as the muscle quivered beneath his touch. He dragged his lubed finger around the ring in circles, getting closer and closer to the middle.

"Stop teasing," Sam grunted out and lifted his hips in an attempt to get Dean to press his finger inside of him.

Dean grinned and then pressed in. Both men groaned in unison as the digit slipped in. "So fucking, tight." Dean moved the finger slowly in and out, loving the way the channel felt around his finger. "Want this so bad, don't you Sammy?"

Sam arched upwards; his hands fisted the sheet underneath him. "More, please, Dean. More."

Dean withdrew the single finger and pressed two inside. Sam was still tight and Dean gave him a minute to adjust before he started to stretch Sam again. Even though it felt to him as if he was about to explode, Dean would never hurt Sam. Two fingers became three and when Sam was loose around them Dean withdrew his hand and slicked up his hard cock while he leaned in and kissed Sam hard. "Will be better for your first time on your hands and knees, but I want to see you." Dean whispered.

"Just like this.” Sam widened his legs again and kept looking at Dean as his brother took hold of one leg and raised it up over his shoulder. Dean was well endowed, his shaft thick and nearly purple with need. Sam held his breath as Dean lined himself up and pressed forward. The pressure was intense and Sam shivered.

"Easy, baby." Dean soothed Sam down and let the head rub over the puckered entrance, waiting patiently until Sam relaxed again before he pressed in. He hissed out as the pressure around his cock intensified and slowly he moved forward, gliding inch for inch forward. Both men sighed as the crown of Dean's cock popped in past the first and then quickly passed the second muscle. Dean groaned and Sam hissed. Both men held perfectly still.

The pressure inside of Sam built up to the side of being almost painful. He knew his body had to relax before he would enjoy the feeling. For a moment it felt to him as if he was back in the locker room with the gym teacher, but then Dean whispered and it brought Sam back to the present and he buried that hated memory down deep.

"Love you so much, Sammy. You're my life." Dean stroked at Sam's hair. He could see the panic building up within Sam and smiled as his words made Sam relax again. "You're safe here, Sam. Nothing and no one will harm you ever again."

Sam relaxed; he needed to hear those words. He arched up again. "Move, I'm ready. Please, move."

"Pushy bottom," Dean grinned but started to rock back and forth. He kept his movements light and with short thrusts he moved deeper within Sam's channel. Soon he was balls deep within Sam. "So good."

"More, fuck, please, more." Sam could feel the pleasure building up in him, but it stayed out of his reach to be completely enclosed in the realm of ecstasy.

"You asked for it." Dean withdrew and then slammed back. He set up a hard pace, flesh slapping against flesh as he chased his own pleasure. He smirked as he lifted Sam's other leg over his shoulder and managed to scrape his cock over Sam's prostate, making Sam scream out in pleasure. "Scream, Sam. Want to hear you, now, always."

Flashes of light sparked behind Sam's eyes as Dean touched his sweet spot. Where a moment ago he was chasing his orgasm, now it was upon him and Dean was not even touching his cock. He managed to loosen the grip he had on the sheet and moved his hand to his leaking cock when Dean's hand moved over his and pulled him away.

"No, on my cock alone, Sam, nothing else. Want you to come for me, just with my cock up your ass, rubbing your sweet spot with every stroke. Give it up for me, Sammy. Come for me." Dean had to grind his teeth; he was on the edge and struggling to stay on top. He wanted to come so badly, but would wait for Sam. Sam's pleasure would precede his.

"Dean, Dean." Sam mumbled over and over. Dean's cock pushed against his prostrate on every stroke. He could feel his orgasm moving in and even as Dean told him to let go, the first wave of pleasure overpowered him and thick strands of cum squirted from his cock. It coated his stomach and Dean's chest. He erupted again as he moaned and yelled in gratification.

Seeing Sam becoming undone was enough to push Dean over the edge. He could feel his own release pulsating within Sam, coating Sam with his seed from the inside. His hips pistoned hard, and he knew that Sam would have interesting bruises on his legs where Dean was gripping Sam tightly.

Slowly both men came down from their high and Dean turned their bodies so that they spooned together. He was still sheathed inside of Sam and would love nothing more than to stay there until Sam's body released him naturally. "So beautiful and mine. Never going to let you go again, Sam. Never."

"Never want you to let go, Dean." Sam sighed and settled down. Both men knew that they still had a long way to go, many issues to work through, but being together, they were stronger. And that's all that mattered, being together. Loving one another.

**The End**


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